The Stories They Tell
by DorianGray91
Summary: "They will tell stories about us," he said, "but they will not tell the truth. Not all of it." And he was right. They won't remember the aftermath, the new dangers close on our heels. They won't speak of the enmity growing between the two men I love, or the consequences of giving my heart to both. They rejoice in the light of a horizon that I have yet to see. Epilogue!
1. Chapter 1

Today's accompanying music:** 'Water' by Denuo.** Just play it when the title appears, bold and central.

* * *

**1**

_I found her on the bed, sleep crawling all over her,  
__Lucid like the sheets she writhed and drowned in.  
__And there should be colours like red and black at times like those,  
__But she was as white as a pill._

* * *

Ravenna's already cold, emaciated, aged body was too much to look at.  
Instead I glared into the reflective golden plate hung above her.

Purest blood, the blood of the fairest, they called it. I couldn't see any sign of blood even in my lips that were meant to be red as roses. All I saw was a deathly face. Haggard, shadowy around the eyes.

It was the first time I had looked into a mirror, a real mirror, since I could remember. I tried to convince myself that under different circumstances, I would have approved of my reflection, I would have looked as beautiful as they claimed. The metal of my armour glinted menacingly. My hair, braided back, didn't do much to decorate my face. I didn't feel at all like myself, didn't look at all like I thought I should.

The mirror was frightfully magnetic. I half-imagined I could sense a power rippling, lurking behind the innocent gold.

But the sound of my name being called brought me with a sharp stab back to reality - I stepped away from the scene of horror before me to face another. Shards of glittering black graphite lay in heaps upon the floors - and other heaps were slumped beside them. Heaps of human flesh and bright, thick bloodshed.

For a moment, I thought I spotted William among them. He was crouched face down, a small pool of crimson streaming from him.  
"_No,_" was all I could manage, barely a choke of dismay, as I fled towards him.

Not him, not when we had only just found one another. Not when he had risked his own safety so recklessly just to get to this point. _It wasn't fair_.

At that moment, he lifted his head and pushed himself up with shaking arms. All the breath was sucked out of my chest, my legs gave way under me, and I fell gracelessly to my knees before him.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded immediately, grasping me by my steel-clad shoulders.  
"No. Fine."  
"It's alright now," he pulled me into his arms, causing me to inhale again. "It's over."  
"I know."

My voice sounded strangely hollow. It didn't feel over.

It was then that I remembered who had called my name, in a voice like rumbling thunder. The only person whom that voice could possibly belong to...

I rose, gently shaking William off, and gazed quietly at the ragged armour-less man standing across from us. He'd received minimal injuries - even less than William. The thought lifted my heart a little. The look on his face, however, erased even this small relief.

"Are you alright?" I asked shortly, without moving towards him. His gaze held me exactly where I was.  
"Fine," he answered, just like me. Hollowly.

I was going to say something more, but then I glanced about and noticed that there were other people present. Other survivors. My heart genuinely leapt when I took in their numbers, more than I'd expected.

"Are you all alright?" I asked them. I was repeating myself, just that one question spinning endlessly between all of us. _Are you alright? Are you all alright?  
_Hoping to god that nobody was dead, that nobody was fatally hurt.

They murmured their assent, still catching their breath. But the piles of other men scattered about the room couldn't be kept waiting any longer. Somebody groaned, and without a second's thought I was on the floor bending over him, rolling him onto his back to expose the wounds.

"Help me take his armour off," I cried.

He had been stabbed in the shoulder and his side was bleeding heavily. But no organs harmed. He would survive.  
"Press the wounds." I moved on immediately to the next fallen soldier.

Not soldier. _Farmer_. The thought pierced me more deeply than any physical hurt. All of these people, these innocents, fighting to their deaths in my honour.  
Thank god we had won. At least they benefited from their sacrifice.

There were still shouts and screams going on outside. Were they of triumph, or battle? Did my step-mother's armies know they were defeated? That they had no cause to keep spilling blood? I rushed to the turret window, grabbing Ravenna's crown on the way. Just as I'd thought, the war below had not ceased.

"Stop! Stop! _The Queen is dead_!" I yelled as loudly and brashly as I could, waving the crown about manically above me. "_The Queen is dead_!"

One black-clad fighter glanced up, and then froze. He reached over to shove the soldier beside him. He in turn looked, and held up a hand to prevent his foe from attacking. The small circle of men around them paused, pair by pair. Like rows and rows of dominoes, heads turned away from the battle, upwards to the sky. Towards me.

"The Queen is dead!" I shouted once more, but with less force. There were so many bodies lying crushed in the mud, silver and black alike. I realised suddenly that my face was wet, but I held the crown aloft still, to make sure the killing had really stopped.

William's arm wound around my waist. The huntsman gazed down at the crowds, his expression tired and stern.  
"_All hail our victor!_" he cried, in his deep, commanding tones. "_All hail Snow White!_"  
"All hail Snow White!" returned a chorus of joyful voices.

There was a silence as their echoes disappeared beyond the castle walls. All eyes were fixated on me.  
It was terrifying.

Then - as if in slow motion - a single enemy soldier sank down. At first I thought that he was dying. But he simply bent one knee into the dirt, holding his sword before him with the tip pointed into the ground. Bowing? To me? I barely believed it, until the black-garmented man beside him did the same. And another, and another. Silver soldiers joined them. Like a great wave gradually dipping, every one of them descended to their knees. For me.

I drew in a quivering breath, my throat tight and my cheeks streaming, in a pathetically unregal display of weakness.  
They could forgive me my tears, though, couldn't they?  
After all, I was crying for them.

"The wounded," I just managed to get out in a thick voice. "Gather the wounded. All of them. Save as many as you can."  
With that I spun on my heel, feeling William's grip on me loosening, and rushed back to the fellow I had been tending.

**'Water'.**

He didn't look good. Scarlet gushing from his mouth. Pierced through his belly.  
"I'm here," I rasped, clinging to his hand as his eyes fluttered wildly around. "I'm here, you're going to be fine."

His rugged, bearded, sturdy face was no less kindly even spattered in blood. Did he have a wife? Children?

"Majesty," he whispered, barely audible through the blood, his dark orbs resting on me, "stay with me."  
"I'm not going anywhere."  
"To look upon such a face," his expression was slackening. "At least I shall go - with beauty at my side."

He winced in agony, his words stilted. My tears soaked the front of his tunic.

"You won't die," I gasped, and all I could see in my mind's eye was small vulnerable Gus.

Gus with an arrow through his torso. Gus gazing up at me in the last moments of his life, a life I should have saved.

"Already going, m'lady," this stranger managed to smile, "it comes for me. I'm cold. Don't let go of my hand."  
"Never."

I felt my heart clenching into a tight protective ball, to no avail. I was helpless to the guilt and sorrow as his lids finally slid over his glassy halos, and he breathed for the last time. Why him? Why this harmless man? Why not me? I was ready to crumple into a useless heap, but somebody else was moaning, "my lady", and I knew that I had to be strong for them. I had to see them to the other side. It was all I could do.

"I'm here," I stuttered again. There were only so many words to comfort a dying soul with. This one flickered and went out the minute I got to him. One glance at me and he gave out a sigh, and that was that. Worse than the first one.

William, the huntsman and my remaining men were trying their best to aid those who could be aided, holding the cold hands of the passing until their eyes lost their light.

Victory was not so sweet as I had anticipated.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much to **MJoftheday, AlleyCatz, Foot-in-mouth-disease, Silverdoe42, DrunkenStanzi **and** VolturiQueen1993** for showing interest, I will be making a big effort to hold your attention!

I live off reviews like Ravenna lives off youthful girls! Though I don't inhale my reviews. That would be silly.

* * *

Playlist today consists of two songs back to back.

**'The Earth Prelude',** and then **'I Giorni', by Ludovico Einaudi.  
**When "**Silence**" comes up bold and central, well. Obviously that means stop the music. Enjoy!**  
**

* * *

**2  
**_I don't want to let you know your heart is an attraction,  
But I know what you're looking for,  
It's me you're waiting for.  
You're not allowed to live anymore.  
Why don't you just ask her yourself?_

* * *

**Music.**

The skies were a curling, smudged grey. A light drizzle fell, and changed the colours of the flagstones in the courtyard of the outer ward. Two magpies twirled and danced between the turrets.

Standing in the great, solid doorway of the castle - the first time I had walked through its main entrance for years - I could survey the full extent of the damage done.

The dead had been laid out in rows, regardless of their 'side', near to the porticullis.  
Soon they would be taken out to the beach, and buried. Their weapons, armour and valuables had been salvaged and stored.

Meanwhile, the wounded had been brought through to the inner ward, right into the Great Hall, at my request.  
They sat huddled, being tended to with all the medical resources I could offer them; the healthy soldiers each took up his responsibility to aid his fellow men.  
There rose the stench of blood and the sound of muffled moans.

Dragging my eyes over the scene I could easily spot my seven remaining, beloved dwarves, hopping here and there with bandages, makeshift tourniquets, salves. Their brows were furrowed in concentration and effort. They had had it best of the lot - only having to fight the stragglers who had escaped our army's onslaught.

If I had lost another of them... I didn't know how I would have stood the guilt.

I had demanded the kitchens be put into use immediately, seeking out the cooks and servants from where they had been cowering in the keep. Now they slaved over enormous amounts of hot broth and loaves of sustaining bread. Duke Hammond, who had become my shadow, raised an eyebrow at my immediate employment of the kitchen staff - but only because he was surprised that I had thought of it so soon.

These things were likely far less significant in the mind of an experienced ruler used to strict battle tactics. But I wasn't going to let anybody go hungry, after they had wasted so much effort to protect me, in the case of my comrades. Or in the case of my enemies, to protect themselves from Ravenna's wrath.

William and the huntsman also remained on either side of me, like a pair of bodyguards. Which was probably what they had in mind. I could see in their shifting eyes that they distrusted this army arrayed in pitch black, despite the fact that all weapons had been gathered and sent to the armoury. Another immediate precaution that I had ordered.

I was doing a lot of ordering today.  
_Guidance _was more the word. I'd really rather Duke Hammond took on all the responsibility. I just wanted to make sure that everybody was rescued, and comfortable, and peaceable.

In reality, I was no leader. Not really good at anything but stirring people's hearts, apparently.  
I was deeply anxious, and nervous of everybody.

I had barely recovered from my ordeal in the tower, saying goodbye to all the brave souls who had died looking into my face, with nothing but fealty and quiet sorrow in the intonations of their last words. Now, looking to my left at the bodies in the courtyard, and to my right at the mangled men in the hall, it was a struggle to keep my composure.

I was so tired, and they were all so unfortunate. And it wasn't fair, it wasn't right.

I would have gladly taken the rest of my days in that dungeon - making my own fires to keep away the chill and surviving off scraps - to restore these fallen people their lives, and these maimed people their health. _Lock me up_, I wanted to scream at the Duke, _Lock me away so I don't have to deal with this, and then make them better._

William's hand reached out to catch a stray tear, and then made to stroke my hair comfortingly.  
However, a tight grip around my arm made me glance the other way.

My huntsman led me slightly aside, steadying and steering me, with that sturdy hand around my limb. His expression never changed from the solemn, confident one he wore now. Ever since he had shouted for the soldiers to _Hail our victor_, he had retained this same, calm exterior.  
I didn't know how he managed it.

I could feel William's eyes boring into the back of my head.  
But I could feel the huntsman's eyes boring straight into my own far more intensely. His sharp blue gaze always seemed to have a magical effect over my limbs. Everything just stopped working.

"You have to assert some self-control; these people are depending on you. There are no more dying men to weep for."  
"I'm sorry." I mumbled, and he resumed William's gesture of brushing my tears away.

The way he did it wasn't romantic or lingering. Just calm, solemn. Like his face.  
"You need to be strong now." even his voice was firm but supportive, an echo of the hand that held me upright.

He gave me a reassuring, restrained pat on the shoulder, and then a slight nudge towards the Duke.  
"He will advise you, from hereon in. You have taken care of them. Now you must begin to organise."

"The huntsman is right." Hammond replied readily as I approached him in a few steps, "We need to decide where we are going to put all of these men. What to do with the spoils. Whether there are going to be executions -"

"_Executions_?" I echoed with dismay.  
He blinked at me.  
"Princess, you cannot be certain that every one of these dark men does not intend your murder."

"I would rather take my chances than kill innocents." I whipped back without a pause.  
"You must think of your _real_ people. If you die because the fiends have taken advantage of your sympathy, our kingdom will be shattered."

He had a valid point. I turned again to my gruff friend, trusting him to contribute something sensible.

"I shall hold interrogations."  
I jumped. The voice was William's.  
"Wounded or not, they'll answer to me. I'll know if there is truth or deceit in them." he stated, "The good-hearted fellows are bound to give away our true enemies when pushed."

I stared at him, the thought of being in a potential torture chamber with men I had just spared making my stomach churn.  
He seemed to read it in my expression, for he hastily added, "You don't have to be there, of course, Princess."

"Thank you." I barely mouthed.

"Shall we step into a more private area to discuss these matters?" Hammond suggested. His eyes fled across the hall and back to me.  
I surprised him again by shaking my head. There was a babble amongst the crowds of men that prevented us from being overheard, and we were a good ten metres from the nearest soldier in the hall.

"The spoils." I addressed him almost too promptly, "They are to be divvied out amongst our men. It wouldn't be right to reward Ravenna's army with trinkets - not that there are enough to share, anyway."  
"It... seems like a wise choice." he replied, reluctantly, in as low a voice as he could.

I could tell that he wasn't comfortable with the way I was doing any of this.  
I wondered if that meant I was doing it wrong, or just doing it differently.

"These men." I surveyed them with a sympathetic but sensible eye, "They don't belong here. They haven't belonged here since they invaded. They must have come from somewhere."  
"Indeed."

"They may remain here, for now. Where they have access to medical care and food. But when they are better, and William has - taken care of the less trustworthy -" I swallowed hard, "I will ask them to disperse. We have enough people to care for."

There was a short silence, and I hoped I was saying the right things.  
William's arm softly, abruptly encircled my shoulders. I flinched, then leaned into the embrace with gratitude. I was still shaky on my legs. Still ready to burst into tears at any provocation.

"You're wise, for all the years you have spent under her rule." he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.

It was enough to make my face feel hot, and my arms tighten around myself in embarrassment. This wasn't the time for William to be making compliments, but it sent a tingle of pleasure up my back nonetheless.

"Those are the important things decided," the huntsman interjected rather quickly, "the Princess may retire for a time, Duke, yes?"  
"It is for the best. A fresh start tomorrow will do your Majesty a world of good." Hammond's eyes twinkled at me, "Later we'll have to begin further business. For now, William and I will oversee the current arrangements, and ensure no traitors slip away. My guard will aid us."

William looked visibly displeased, but didn't argue. For once. I remembered a time when he wouldn't agree with his father for anything. Or me, for that matter.  
I cheered him with a small, conspiratory smile that he returned eagerly, pretending to roll his eyes at his parent.

"Come." my huntsman obliged me in that deep irrefutable tone, and took my arm again, much more gently, "We'll find some girls to assist you."

"Girls." I gasped suddenly, becoming stock still.

Before he could react I was off, bounding away towards the dark flight of stairs that took me downwards to the dungeons. I ignored his irritated calls. This was too important.

"Greta!" I shouted, skidding into the dank corridor and towards her door, "Greta, are you there?"

"Majesty?" came the faintest whisper.  
My taller companion had caught up to me, and stood panting with me in the dripping, awful place.

A head of wavy red hair appeared in Greta's barred window.  
"Thank god!" I cried in glee, rushing to hold her hand through the metal, "I'm so glad to see you!"

She was restored. The plump, fresh look was back in her cheeks. Her clear eyes sparkled with joy.

"I don't know where the key is." I admitted ruefully.

**Silence.**

"Stand back."

I turned, and jumped.  
"I forgot you had your axe."  
"Always keep one. You never know." he remarked, before lifting the thing over his head and bringing it crashing down upon the lock, splintering wood.

The muscles in his arms and shoulders strained through his tawny clothing; the sheer force of his body plunged the weapon deep into the door. Three more hacks, and Greta's imprisonment was over.

"I'm glad you are on my side."  
He almost grinned at my comment, and though he repressed it, I saw it lingering in his blue orbs.  
"You should be. I was impressed with your use of my technique."

It took me a moment to realise what he meant, and even as I remembered I winced. Block, and stab. The Queen's blood dripping, her terrified gasp. Her own weapon clunking to the ground.

"It saved my life." I admitted in an empty voice, "I owe you, too many times over."  
"I'm sure you will find a way to repay me."

I shot him a questioning look, but Greta fairly tumbled into my arms and I held her dearly to me, smiling despite myself.

"How long has it been since you've had a hot bath?" I asked, talking into her mane of hair.  
"Too long!" she laughed, a pretty, shimmering little sound of pure relief, that made me feel the end of our suffering was genuinely within reach.

It was an error to think that my suffering could really ever cease.  
But for the moment, Greta's little hand was clutched in mine, and the huntsman's broad palm was on my shoulder, and the thought of sleep passed a hazy veil over all other things.

For now - just now - it was over.


	3. Chapter 3

A big thanks to **Woman of the Dunedain,** **jesuisperdu, LenaLove **and **X**, my anonymous little pixie,for your delightful reviews!

And thanks to **SweeterSn, VampireLoveForever27, HRH Mia, Mrs. Clark,** **thereadingfairy, jenny-harkness, bella9, and sushi1sama **for throwing this on your Story Alert/Favourite pile! Loving you guys.

Special thanks to **jillyanne** who seems to think I am worthy of her Favourite Author pile. "Four for you Glen Coco, you go Glen Coco!"

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Playlist: **'The Big Afraid' by 65daysofstatic.**

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**3  
**_A winter's day, a bitter snowflake on my face  
My summer girl takes little backward steps away  
And when she smiles, the ice forgets to melt away  
Her smile was warming yesterday  
A memory of the summer day._

* * *

"I feel so clean." Greta giggled, bobbing up and down as she scrubbed herself over with a rough bar of soap.

We lounged in the great bath that once contained galleons of thick, sickly milk where Ravenna performed her daily ritual. It looked fine now. Only half-full with warm, bubbly water which we soaked in.

The minimal undergarments we still wore received a good cleansing too. I rubbed away the smell of battle and sweat, the stains of dirt and sand. It felt like heaven compared to the small, cold bowl of water I used to receive each day in my cell.

Now I was beginning to feel like royalty. Let alone a soon-to-be-Queen.

**'The Big Afraid'.**

_Queen_. The thought made all of my organs squirm uncomfortably. Duke Hammond's words rebounded in my head over and over. _Later we'll have to begin further business. _Further business. Further business! Who knew what that would entail.

I needed the Duke and I needed William. They were used to running castles, and subjects, and - I don't know, _fields_, or whatever it was. They would take me through the steps. They would show me how to get things in working order.

But after today's frightful encounter, I had the feeling that I was getting off on the wrong foot with Hammond. All I was currently concerned with was efficiency, immediate comfort for all those unhappy people in the hall. Making things fair for everybody. Extending the hand of friendship to those who could easily be misunderstood.

As I reflected now, gradually losing touch with Greta's chirpy comments, I began to process my situation logically.  
I had just fed roughly a thousand men with the capable hands of the kitchen workers, and the stores of food that were on hand. The late Queen had been prepared for an enduring battle, and was overly indulgent with everything, in any case.

I never thought to ask how much food there actually was, or was going to be left over.  
I remembered the faces of the strangers in the village I had ridden through on my escape route. Disfigured with starvation, thin and curling like diseased plants.

I had intended my next actions to be directed towards them, providing immediate relief as I had for the soldiers. Would there now be enough stock left over to send to them? Or would I have to dispatch a temporarily meagre portion, making them feel secondary to the castle, rousing their already bitter spirits?

I threw the soap bar to one side and lay on my back, floating in a silent world where the water shielded my ears from Greta, and the ceiling hovered lazily above me. Swirling, artful carvings lined the tops of the walls just before the roof began to slant. The beams were so straight and perfect as they reached towards a singular point, a certain goal, the pinnacle of the turret.

Yes, I thought softly. Yes, that was just it. I must aim for a certain point in the future. I couldn't always live in the here and now; I had to have a secure sense of what was ahead for the people I took under my wing. Every course of action I decided upon must be straight, determined. And all must reach towards that same future goal.

And the goal was the simplest thing in the world.  
Simply the opposite of the kingdom Ravenna had created.  
The kingdom my father would have sustained.

**Music Fades.**

I was prodded gently on the arm.

"Sorry." I sat up, shaking water out of my hair and then beginning to scrub that too.  
"Someone's knocking on the door."  
"Oh. Well why haven't any of you answered?" I glanced about at the three waiting maids who had been hauled up from the kitchens to help us.  
I asked as politely as I could, but it still sounded condescending. I winced.

"Please Majesty, we aren't allowed to answer until you give permission." one rapped out in a well-trained tone. Obviously she had learned this lesson the hard way from Ravenna at some point.

"What are your names?"  
"Rosaline, Majesty."  
"Sally, Majesty."  
"Bethany, Majesty." said the one who had answered my first question.

"Bethany. I'm sorry, I didn't realise. Could you ask who it is, please?"

A second later she whipped back around from the crack in the door.  
"It's the huntsman, Ma'am. He's brought up a fresh load of hot water."

I felt my face burning up, as when William had bragged to me about my own wisdom earlier.  
If anything, this heat was worse. I could positively feel my cheeks going dark.  
Let alone having him tear my dress off at the knees. This was downright vulgarity, me in this bath.

"Tell him to wait a moment. Rosaline, please may I have a towel? And could I have some help with these wet things? I'm done bathing."  
I was helped up out of the enormous pool, and flocked by the two girls who weren't keeping the hunstman at the door.

As they removed the soaking, clean underthings and wrapped me in a huge, rough sheet of flannel from neck to toe, I felt a pang of guilt at leaving him to wait outside the room for all that time.  
But he wouldn't go away - he said he had to act as my guard for now - and I couldn't have him in here.

Clinging to the coarse fabric from the inside, and tucking the top folds under my chin, I called "Come in," in as brave a voice as I could muster.

He strode purposefully into the room, only glancing my way once before dumping the bucket's content into the bath. Greta squeaked, covering her shoulders with her arms and curling her naked legs beneath her.

I felt a sudden twist in my stomach, despite the fact that the huntsman paid the girl no attention whatsoever. _Another woman in the same room as him, exposed to his eyes._ For a moment, I had myself convinced that she had stayed in the water in order for exactly this to happen. After all, he was...

He was...

_Desirable_? Was that even a word I could associate with my comrade?  
He set the bucket down and swivelled to face me. My stomach flipped again, but in a very different way, as I saw his expression change from indifference to attentiveness as soon as he locked his clear sea-blue stare upon mine.

I felt very, very naked underneath all the wrappings of material. Even though only my ankles were peeking out from under it.

"I'm sorry I've kept you outside for so long." I muttered, barely able to look at his feet as I dropped my eyes from that piercing look, "You got bored, then."  
"I thought I should do something useful." he chuckled.

Chuckled?  
I couldn't help it. I dared to peek up, and there was that same grin lingering in his orbs. This time, it was also lifting the corners of his charming lips, perceptibly.

... Did I just call his lips 'charming'?

"Well, if Greta gets out, perhaps you can put it to use yourself." I suggested, noting the way I emphasised the point about my new girl exiting the bath. The thought of him jumping in with her somehow managed to make my hands clench around the towel compulsively.

He gave another hearty rumbling chortle, and nodded his assent.  
"I couldn't possibly turn down the opportunity."

With that, he stripped off his hooded deerskin jacket, and reached for the belt that held his leather shoulder cover in place. My mouth dropped open.  
He carried on mercilessly, removing the various belts that held his axes to his body, followed by the tough hide jerkin whose strings he tugged loose with surprisingly precise fingers.

He was watching my face a little too intently as he threw off his wristguards and untucked his rough woven shirt. Then, for the third time, he laughed quietly. This time at my expense.  
"Well, if it disconcerts you, get out."

Then I fled, with or without Greta.

I shut the door behind me and leaned against the cooling stone wall, still dressed only in my towel. How inappropriate.  
More appropriate than watching my companion taking off however many garments, standing merely metres away from me. Something about it rang alarm calls in my head.

My heart rate was up, my breathing loud and uncomfortable.  
And, unsurprisingly, I was angry. More with myself than with that outrageous man. Because I didn't want to feel flustered and unsafe around him. His job was to make me feel protected, and utterly grounded. It was what he had always done, from the moment he decided to accept my bribe and guide me to Hammond's castle. From the moment I had roared at the troll, wanting only to shield him. To protect my protector.

Because without him, I was nobody.

One thing I was grateful for. He hadn't called me _Princess _or _Majesty_ once since the battle. Not even when he was calling for my praise from that turret window.  
To him, I was still the useless girl he had been bribed into hunting down. The girl he had abandoned in the village, the girl he had braved the Sanctuary with.

I needed that, more than I needed anything. It kept the word _Queen _at bay, an impotent echo of a meaning. It stemmed the desperate feelings of isolation that were quickly closing their nets around me.

With this infinitely calming thought to shove off any other interruptions, I finally felt my heart slow and my lungs stop working at full throttle. I tilted up my chin, straightened my back, and reopened the door with an unbreakable demeanor of dignity and strength.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you **museofmirth**,** Jay **and **Brigit **for the reviews!

Thanks to **Sakura Taichou **and **GrangersTwin666 **for adding the story!

As a reward, this chapter has been posted mega early. Like, five seconds after the last chapter.

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Playlist: **'A River Flows In You (Feat. Katie Pellak)' by ****Joy Appel****.**

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**4  
**_I gave me away, could have knocked off the evening  
But I was lonelily looking for someone to hold.  
In a way I lost all I believed in, and I never found myself so low  
And you let me down. You could've called if you'd needed  
But you lonelily got yourself locked instead._

* * *

At least, it felt unbreakable until I was actually inside the room, and I caught sight of him lounging contentedly in the newly heated water, raking the bar of soap across his immaculately shaped torso.  
_Dignity and strength. Dignity and strength. This isn't half so scary as a troll. This isn't a tenth as scary as Ravenna._

Bracing myself with these continuous thoughts, I forced out a weak smile.  
"You're awful." I insulted.  
"I'm honest. Besides, it's very different for me." he raised an eyebrow mockingly, "I don't have so many things to cover."

"No. You don't." I glanced at the grubby braies thankfully covering him. It had been such a bad idea to invite him to wash. "I'm glad I invited you to wash."  
"Why?"  
"Because you're filthy. You could stay in there for days and still have mud on you."

I didn't know how these things were coming out of my mouth.  
I hardly knew what I was saying.  
But it was covering the true conflict going on between my squirming gut and my protesting thoughts, and that was fine by me.

"Bethany, could you hold the towel up while I dress?"  
Greta was in a towel now, thank god. I started to feel warmth towards her again.

Rosaline quickly grabbed the fresh set of underthings that were waiting in a neat pile to be put on me. A pair of snug, short braies and a wonderfully soft, sweet-smelling chemise. I slid them on with a relief unmatched even by the battle's ending today.

I tried to forget that these very undergarments belonged to Ravenna.  
I told myself that she had probably never worn them - she had so many things.

One of her neglected dresses was also destined for my body. It was too elaborate for me. Too feminine, too decorative. And it was still the plainest they could find.

It was a deep scarlet, velvet thing with embroidered carmine-coloured roses. The sleeves were puffed and gathered around my upper arms, becoming tight-fitting and buttoned from the elbows down.  
A dainty pair of leather shoes were placed with care upon my feet. The girls towel-dried my hair quickly, and apparently I was complete, for they all stepped back and sighed. Even Greta, who had scrambled into another spare dress, came to fawn over me.

"It brings out the colour of your lips."  
The words were spoken in a low masculine manner that didn't come from any of the maids.  
I peered around them to glare at the huntsman.

He wasn't smiling any more.

In fact, he looked upset.  
I frowned at him curiously as he continued to drag his striking cyan halos over my body. Dammit, huntsman! Why did I still feel naked, covered shoulders to toes in more than appropriate materials?

He just seemed to see through everything.  
It was more than the clothing; he was trying to peer past my outer self. He was - looking straight at me as though he were seeing something more than me. As though there was a different me, a more intimate version of myself, that he was really communicating with.  
Or rather, communicating _at_. Because I wasn't receiving whatever it was he was silently telling me with those solemn, world-weary eyes.

How could he look so like an arrogant youth one instant, and such an ancient, grieving soul the next?

"Your lips look even redder than usual." he repeated, in almost a whisper.  
His tone was wistful. _Why_ was it wistful?

How long had I known this man? A week? Perhaps closer to two?

"Huntsman." I retorted sharply, "I shall put _you_ in a red dress, if you don't stop teasing me."  
It didn't catch. Apparently he had sunk into some kind of reverie, sparked off by the coincidental colour coding of my mouth and my stupid showy garment.

He was thinking. I could see him staring not just into me, but right through me now.  
I looked at the floor. Pointed my toes in their new shoes that didn't feel right. Did some thinking myself.

When I glanced up, he was still thinking.  
Great.

"Could we have some privacy?" I suggested to the four girls quietly.  
I could sense the huntsman stiffen suddenly at my words. I had no idea what he was anticipating. What was so bad about being left to talk to his friend, that had made him turn into a suit of armour?

The nosey females fluttered out of the door - rather, the maids fluttered. Greta trudged, like I would have.

At their disappearance, I magically became much braver. I was annoyed, more than afraid, at this man whose moods changed like the tides and whose orbs were still fixed very much on me.  
I seated myself upon the edge of the tub. Tub? _Arena _was a more fitting description.

**'A River Flows Through You'.**

For the first time, I noticed the way the hundreds of candles illuminated him. It hadn't been significant when shed upon Greta or the others. It was just light.  
Flickering and playing along his bronzed skin, soaking into his hair with the soap he applied to its matted strands - it took on new meanings for me.

It seemed to tell me things about him. It showed me the creases in his brow. It brought a new shade into his eyes, making them darker, more alluring. It glistened and shimmered upon the droplets of water in his stubbly beard and on his rounded shoulders.

"So. That scarlet dress. I'm sure the Queen will have a selection to spare, though we may have to take it out a little for you."  
I was rattling on with a joke that hadn't worked the first time. I couldn't seem to find anything else to say to him, despite my determination to give him a small piece of my mind, and the fact that I'd just turned everybody else out specifically to talk to him.

What on earth was there to say, honestly?  
_I really appreciate you not killing me in the Dark Forest, huntsman.  
I am really glad that I scared off that troll for you, huntsman. And no, I didn't think it made you look emasculated.  
When I was dancing with Gus, I was half-imagining that I was dancing with you, huntsman._

_I regret that now. I would give my right arm to dance with Gus just one more time.  
When you came back to the burning village, huntsman, my heart jumped in my chest.  
You killed Finn. You killed the man who tried to love me. You killed him so brutally. I didn't know what I thought about it, except that a true man was replacing the oppressive figure who had been in my life for so long.  
And then William was there, huntsman. And then William took over._

"It took you a long while to answer the door." he commented quietly, saving me the trouble of trying to follow up my awful jest with a genuine remark.

"Yes. I was thinking with my ears in the water."  
"What about?"

Why was he so interested in what went on in my head?  
"About how being like a turret roof would help me to be a wise monarch."

He snorted, actually amused this time.  
"How so?"  
I explained. His face lit up even further.  
"You had too much time alone in that dungeon, girl. You think very deeply."

Now, that stung. I appreciated his familiarity at all times, but never insensitivity.  
"Yes. I spent years in that cell. I don't care to be reminded of it."  
"Snow White." he said pointedly.  
"_Huntsman._"

"My name _isn't _'huntsman'. Who's being rude now?"

His comment brought me up short.  
The small victory obviously amused him, but it inflicted an unintentional feeling of shame upon me.

"Fine. What _is_ your name?" I tilted my chin defiantly.  
I despised arguments. I hated aiming jibes and having to come up with retorts. But he chafed me, and for once in my life I didn't feel like apologising or stepping down.

"Rumplestiltskin."

At that, my jaw dropped in real indignation.  
"I am on the verge of hiding your clothes and letting you walk around in wet braies for the rest of your life. You are absolutely impossible."

"How dare you!" his voice rose, and his eyebrows slanted away from one another in a look of pure embarrassment and despair, "How dare you mock me for my mother's awful sense of humour! I can't help it."

I gauged his visage carefully, and finally my stomach jolted with guilt.  
"You're being serious?"  
"Deadly serious."

He couldn't hold it in any longer. He loved my gullibility.  
As he guffawed to himself, I hit the water with my palm in rage, soaking his face thoroughly.  
"If Muir were here, he would have your head for that."  
"Only because he adores you."

"I am the destined - thing! Show some respect."  
"You _were _the destined thing. You've already fulfilled your role. I have no more reason to respect you than I would Gort."  
"_Queen_!"  
"Not yet, you aren't. And I thought you were afraid of that word."

How did he know that?

"We were having such an unusually enjoyable time." I snapped back, "And you had to bring that up."  
"We're allowed to enjoy ourselves. We are the victors."

"There's a lot more to think about than that."  
"Yes, tomorrow. I don't know about you, but I haven't had reason to smile since -" a pause, which I didn't need filling in for me, "Here I am, smiling for you. Don't you prefer it this way?"  
"You were the one who interrupted our lighter topic."

He couldn't get around my logic with only his jesting arrogance. He gave in, beaming.  
Yes. I did prefer it this way.  
I preferred _him _this way. There was no comparison between the gruff, tough man in the woods who seemed to feel a very strong desire to abandon me, and this chirpy fellow who just wouldn't get out of my way.

"What's your real name, then?" I steered the conversation back towards shallow waters, allowing myself to be a bit cheeky too.  
"I've said the cursed word now. My lips are sealed."  
"What?"  
"You have to guess, I'm afraid. I don't create the rules. Now that I've said 'Rumplestiltskin', I can never reveal my true identity. Not unless you get it yourself."

"Will you vanish in a puff of smoke if I'm correct?"  
"No."  
"Then what will happen?"  
"I suppose we shall have to find out. I've never done this before."

Neither had I. I couldn't remember the last time I had played a game of any sort.  
The last game I had ever played must have been with William. There wasn't really anybody else.  
Not until now.

"Well then, _Rowan_." I said hopefully, and sighed when he shook his head, "I have to fetch you some new clothes. Or the bath will have been sadly pointless."  
"Clothes? Where from?"

I paused at the door, only half-turning to reply, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor.  
"From my father's chamber. Wherever she has hidden them." I muttered.

I didn't wait for a reply, but fled quite suddenly, past the gossiping maids and Greta, past the small maze of corridors and doorways, wiping just a couple of rogue drops from my eyelashes and pretending they were bath water.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to **Silhouette the SANVAE, Sakura Taichou, PS, X, vmg **and **xMidnightHowls** for your wonderful reviews!  
Cheers to **iloveRookieBlue, Like Live Music, peteythepirate, Dustykins, goblynn, Nausicaa of the Spirits **and** KIRAKASHA **for adding my humble story to your alerts.

So far we have a good ratio of reviews to chapters, but there are earlier fictions on here that have received colossal reviews for literally one entry, and I'm looking at them with hungry eyes!  
Those lovely readers who have already alerted this story, pretty please have a think about leaving some reviews for me! The more reviews the quicker I'll update - your words could even influence the direction this story takes, as I find advice invaluable!

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Playlist: **'Einaudi: Nuvole Bianche' by Ludovico Einaudi.**

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**5  
**_I heard myself whisper your name, I was asleep in a dream  
Then you woke me up, Little Sun.  
Well I remember those few nights  
When the sky it stared right back at us  
And I felt so small standing next to you, Little Moon._

* * *

Carrying my father's clothing back to the bathing chamber was like holding a dream, a tangible dream, in my shaking hands. The silky loose shirt and blue embroidered surcoat, the velvety breeches, the expensive braies - they felt as though they were going to melt away at any second.

The castle was just as Ravenna had left it. I hadn't even seen it since - well. Just _since_. But I remembered what it had looked like then, and shuddered at how it had transformed. Her possessions, her clothes, her colours, her obsessions all stained the place. Especially the master chamber I had just dared to enter - the one that would soon be mine.

Every object seemed ready to spring; morbid, looming, occult and ugly. Even the tapestries. I found it repulsive, but unsurprising, that in all her time here she had only ever surrounded herself with ugliness. That her face in the eerie golden mirror was the only thing that ever brought her true joy.

"Come in." my nameless friend growled like a contented big cat.  
"I found them." I said needlessly, as I placed the neat stack of rich clothing upon a heavy chest, and then perched next to it.

**'Einaudi: Nuvole Bianche'.**

The huntsman had taken me by surprise - he was already out of the bath and towelling himself dry. One hand clutched a swathe of material around his hips, keeping at least his dignity intact, but the rest of the flannel he was rubbing over his upper body, frequently exposing chunks of flesh - his solid chest, his sides, his defined back, his broad shoulders.

The candlelight did things to his rippling arms as they worked. Glancing off each muscle, casting his body in shadow, revealing it again. Soaking him in a golden-tinted light that brought out bright flecks in his hair and made his skin look like it was honey-smothered.

I had intended to look fixedly at my feet at the first moment I registered his physical state. But after the initial glimpse I found myself staring - I couldn't _not _be transfixed by this show of unconscious, exquisite beauty.  
I had never seen him like this before.  
I had never imagined he could be so pure and - handsome.

He finished drying his hair and, knotting the towel around his waist, reached up to tie most of the copper-coloured strands back again.  
Then he strode towards me, extending a strong, large hand for the new clothes. I must have looked like some kind of gawping simpleton - or frozen prey under the magnetic gaze of its hunter - maybe both.

The point was, I couldn't speak or move for the way he was shocking, provoking and enchanting me. The first man to ever have presented himself, honest as they came, to my open stare. He didn't even treat it as a heinous social faux pas. To him, I didn't think it mattered at all.

Or perhaps it did matter. And that was why he was taking the opportunity to dazzle me. Maybe he was toying with me, trying to make me look stupid by breaking the rules in front of me and ignoring my protests. Watching me crumble into a starstruck mess as he flaunted.

Or - maybe I was overestimating his ability to spite me. Maybe I was blowing all of this out of proportion... The proportions of his exposed figure were certainly clouding my judgement.

I thrust the new garments into his hands suddenly, spitting out, "Cover yourself up, you rascal."  
"It isn't my fault you walked in whilst I was drying off."  
"You let me in!"  
"You're still staring."

It was true. His torso, shaped and scarred by war, by the forests and long treks over land, was practically blocking out all other possibilities of vision.  
"Don't sound so smug." I leapt from the chest and crossed the room, looking at the bath, at the candles, at the windows, "Just because you're the first man I've had the displeasure to witness without his decency. It's unfair."

There was a pause, and I felt as though I'd stung him.  
Good. He needed taking down a notch or two.

"Is this decent enough for you?"

I kept my face a perfect mask of indifference, determined not to show him any of these unwanted stirrings he was causing - but nothing could prepare me for the image he presented now. Internally, my jaw dropped, my stomach exploded and my knees buckled.  
Externally, the corners of my mouth turned down a little, but that was all I gave away.

The first thing that struck me was the strangeness of seeing my father from the neck down - similar stature, posture, same illustrious attire.  
The second shock was how, when I added the huntsman's face to the top of the picture, he seemed to fit it so well. He was transformed. He was clean and regal, his fresh visage looked almost heavenly.

Then I managed to laugh at his bare feet, which completely ruined the picture.  
"I'll have to fetch you a pair of shoes, too. Those old boots won't do."

His lips curled. Again, he was smiling. And again, I was at a loss as to why he was encouraging my laughter. Up until today - ever since we had camped around that fire with the dwarves, and I had danced with Gus - he had been a cold, sober statue of dedication and single-mindedness.

"You're so different." I blurted out, all evidence of mirth gone.  
He confused me. Unsettled me, still. And I didn't like it.  
I preferred this jovial man to the stern guide I once had, but it didn't mean I felt more comfortable. It was all too unfamiliar.

"I am dressed very... differently." he picked at the clothes self-consciously, "What do you think?"  
"I don't think anything about how you look." I lied. His expression dropped immediately, and it made my gut clench, "I meant about _you_."  
"What about me?" he already knew what I meant, and was just extending the time he could evade my comment. It irritated me.

"You're like a jolly farmer. You look as though you've no trouble in the world."  
He was about to reply, but bit his lip.  
"I've already asked you if you don't prefer it this way." he took a few steps towards me, as though he thought his words required more intimacy, "You've spent enough time looking miserable, don't you think?"

"I have an awful lot more things to think about than you, tomorrow and all the days after." I felt that we were repeating our earlier debate, going in circles, but I didn't have any other point to make, "You can go off and do as you please. I have to mend this country."  
"I will not be_ going off_ anywhere."

"Then what?"  
"I will remain. Your sense of humour needs somebody to look after it. Or what's left of it."

His eyes were saying something less light-hearted, but I brushed it away. I wouldn't be taken in like this.  
"What will you do?"  
"Whatever I can. I'll take responsibility for the horses. Perhaps I'll be offered the position of huntsman, still?"

I didn't want to talk about this. Not now.  
I was tired, and so many things remained to be taken care of before I could even begin to assign positions to friends.

"We'll find something. After the more important things are seen to."  
He bowed his head slightly, taking the insult as impersonal. Which it was.

"The girls are waiting outside. Who knows what they think is going on." I sighed. I had worked myself up into an awful temper despite his attempts to cheer me. And I did feel guilty. But being in the same room as him, dressed like that, looking so _desirable_, was too confusing. And I didn't need confusion. I needed consistency.

"Snow White."  
He stopped me in my tracks on the way to the door.

"You can't let the future weigh you down. At least, not tonight."  
He hadn't moved, but I felt a sudden, horrible urge to run back to him, to let his comforting words wash over me like the sweep of his hair on my cheek. I could feel William's arms around my shoulders, around my waist, from all the times he had touched me today, with such familiarity.

I wanted the huntsman's arms, in this singular moment. His speech was so inviting it seemed to require physical accompaniment. If he held me as he said all of those things - maybe they would finally take on some meaning for me. Perhaps they would finally sink in.

I realised that I was numb. I had been numb all day long - no matter the tears I had already shed.  
I could reach a certain point of feeling, and then I was shut off from myself, from the things that really lurked beneath my streams of thought.

The catalyst that would allow me to break through my self-constructed barriers was only a few metres from me. All he had to do was extend his arms. He was still my companion, my huntsman, and the only person I currently felt safe with.  
Not even William would be able to break the spell. Only, _only_ him.

"Would you like to know why I am so free and flippant?"  
"Please, do explain."

I didn't have the courage to make even one movement towards him. I was afraid of what I might find there, in the net of his arms.  
I was afraid that I might betray my true love, once caught in that snare.  
Not openly. Never physically.  
But my soul was crying out in hunger for this man, and I couldn't give it the satisfaction. I couldn't allow myself to fall head over heels for a friend whom I relied upon to be so constant in his singular aspect of supporting me.

I couldn't jeapordise my chances of eventual, appropriate, happy marriage with William. My childhood companion who had been through hell and high water to rescue me. Who had proven himself a thousand times over to be as worthy of a crown as I - to share my crown, my throne, my chamber...

"The witch is dead." he said, with a note of hesitation, planning his words carefully, "The kingdom is on its way to restoration, and it has the most perfect future sovereign to ensure its safety. But that's not the reason I feel so uplifted."

He paused, and cleared his throat. He was now a million miles away from the celebratory mood he was talking about. It looked so ironic, his shy, serious face clashing with his words.

"If the Queen had died, and the kingdom was restored, but _you _were not here to see it done - if you hadn't survived - I should be beyond consolation."

That was all he needed to say. I no longer had any trouble restraining myself from running to him - I was rooted to the spot with the electrifying chills surging up and down my spine, disabling me completely.

But now I could see it was his turn to be distressed. He shifted on his bare feet, fists slightly tensed at his sides. He wanted to approach, but after that I couldn't guess. Shake me violently, for being such a miserable let down? Embrace me? Exit the room, striding straight past me?

"Well... thank you." I answered pathetically.  
It crossed my mind to tell him that if he had died, I too would have been broken with grief. But even that seemed like a line not to be crossed. For William's sake.

I would have been just as distraught had William died. I remembered my manic rush to his side, the way my body refused to function and my graceless fall as I prepared to lose him.

"I really need to find somewhere to sleep, now." I continued at last, glancing at the round, black window, "What a waste of time, getting into clothes I don't even intend to sleep in."  
"Welcome to palace life." he agreed with a small, knowing smirk.

The three maids and Greta were, as I'd expected, listening at the door. They all jumped back in an awful fright when I opened it, and tried to look innocent.  
"I need a room, right away." I was almost swaying on my feet, I was so tired.

They rushed to obey, and my faithful huntsman followed me down the corridor towards the adjoining chambers, where fresh sheets would be thrown upon a soft mattress for me.

"_Damien_?" I asked under my breath.

He glanced sideways at me, shook his head almost imperceptibly, and then matched my genuine smile with one of his own.


	6. Chapter 6

So sorry I haven't updated, my computer broke! Here is a quick fix, more soon. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and alerted!

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**6**

_We hold in our hearts the sword and the faith  
__Swelled up from the rain, clouds move like a wraith  
__Well after all, we'll lie another day  
__And through it all, we'll find some other way._

* * *

The girls were pulling and patting at the sheets freshly laid on my temporary bed. The bed in the third-best chamber, since Finn had claimed the second, and I didn't want to sleep in a room that had been his any more than a room that had been Ravenna's. The thought was possibly even more horrifying.

Right then, I didn't care if the sheets were straight or not. I was practically falling over, only Greta holding me up as she undid my dress for me. My eyelids kept trying to drop, heavy as lead weights.

But I could still sense him, leaning against the wall just behind me with his arms folded and his eyes respectfully averted. I could tell without even looking at him.

Then, the scrape of a chair being lifted.

My fatigue leaving me for a second of confusion, I turned to glance enquiringly at him, as my new handmaid let the scarlet material fall from my body, its endless buttons finally undone.

He was carrying the seat towards the heavy oak door, still not looking at me, a slight furrow of his brow the only indication that there was something amiss.

"What are you doing?"  
"Taking up the watch." he told a spot on the ground close to my feet, "Somebody has to make sure you aren't slaughtered in the night."  
"I don't need a guard now."  
"Now is the time you'll need a guard most. When else would you attempt a vulnerable target?"

This was true. But the thought of him being so close, just outside my door, all night...  
It thrilled me too much.

"I can't leave you outside. You'll freeze to death. You need your own chamber." I argued, only vaguely registering what I was saying.  
"I need to be at the door. The faster I can kill your enemies the better."  
"Well, kill them in here if you have to."  
"I'd rather not let them get that close to you."

It all sounded very serious and dangerous, but I couldn't seem to keep a hold on any of it. The constant obstacles were just annoying.

"Go and get William." I yawned, "He can sit here, if one of you really must guard me."  
A pause.  
"The Duke's son is already watching over the men to ensure none slip away."  
"Well then, why does someone need to be here?"

The bed was ready. I was ready, in my clean, silky chemise and braies. Without another word I dived under the covers and curled up.

"_Because_ - you really are stubborn." he interrupted himself, "Because you can never be safe enough. Not even with the Duke's guard and I watching over you. Ravenna's men may seem harmless but they could be plotting vengeance this minute."

"I really think they were just afraid of her." my own voice was getting further and further away, "You can all go to bed yourselves, Rosaline... goodnight."  
Their footsteps and the sound of the door shutting behind them, followed by muffled tittering voices, told me that we were finally alone. It was a shame that I was too exhausted to care.

The chair scraped again, this time on the floor right beside me.  
So he had decided to stay. In here. Good. At least he wouldn't suffer in the draughty corridor.  
And his presence wasn't just electrifying - I really did feel terribly safe. And glad.

"Huntsman." I said into the pillow, extending a hand vaguely towards him.  
His warm, rough, broad hand closed around mine, shocking me slightly. His grip was firm but tender.  
"Will you stay with me?" I murmured, and I didn't just mean for the night. I wondered if he sensed that, but when his grasp tightened just for an instant and his free hand ran carefully through my hair, I knew that he understood everything.

He understood that I couldn't go out there alone tomorrow.  
And I understood, without really having to ask, that I would never have to. It was just nice to hear it from him regardless of what I knew already.

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried. I've a taste for the high life, now. You should never have lent me such fine clothing."  
"Get used to it." I sighed, as I felt myself slipping.

Silence finally allowed me to be swept off

"Snow White."

But that was all I heard before I was sucked under by sheer fatigue, and when I awoke later I wouldn't remember him even saying my name.


	7. Chapter 7

As you may imagine, I haven't got enough time to go through all the wonderful reviews and story alerts any more. It's too hard to keep track and copy them all down! But know that I am very grateful to everybody.

**Playlist**: 'You Failed Me Finn' and 'Journey To Fenland' from the SWATH soundtrack. Yay the real music!

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**7  
**_In our madness  
We burnt one hundred days  
Time takes time to pass  
And I still hold some ashes to me  
An Occasional Dream_

* * *

I dreamt of my father.  
I dreamt that I was young, and that I was peering around the doorway into his chamber.

A knife stuck out from his rigid body. Thick scarlet sluiced and seeped over the sheets. But his eyes were still open, stretched so grotesquely wide, as though he were staring at something unutterably horrifying I couldn't see.

**'You Failed Me Finn'.**

I reeled backwards, until I realised that somebody was standing across the corridor from me, in the shadows.  
A woman. A grown woman in lavish clothing, garments as bloody red as my father's bed covers.

My eyes were drawn even though I didn't want to look.

I couldn't help myself. I fell back against the wall and my mouth yawned open as wide and deep as the gulf of terror that consumed me, and from the gulf came the most awful, blood-curdling, monstrous scream.  
It sounded as though I were dying.

And then, quite suddenly, I was looking at a ceiling in the bright golden hues of morning - and the screaming hadn't stopped.

"Princess." An iron-like grasp around my flailing forearms, the weight of restraint settling upon me as I convulsed where I lay. "_Princess_."  
Air surged into my lungs as I gasped madly, and then I shrieked again, loud and incessant and piercing.

My head span, my veins ran icy cold, my heart hammered and my chest contracted sickeningly.  
The absolute, undiluted horror of the moment filled my vision, my lungs, my bloodstream, my thoughts, my muscles. Images that would tangle themselves into nonsense later made complete, frightening sense now. The sense of nightmares.

It was impossible, but it was true, to me, in that moment.

"Snow White."  
As I stopped struggling the pressure was removed from my wrists, and instead a warmth grazed my cheek, tender and rough as a man's touch always should be.

I concentrated on breathing in and out without the yelling in between. Harsh, painful at first, but as the soft grazing hand slipped over my forehead and smoothed back my hair, I started to feel steady again.

When I had finally gotten control of myself, felt that I could stand to acknowledge the person who had just witnessed my hysteria, I slowly let my stare slide from its resolute spot on the ceiling, and towards my bedside.

"Hello, there." his rolling accent lilted, in its deep tone like a lion's purr.  
"Hello." I croaked.  
"Are you done with the nightmares?"  
"Just about."

"Do you want to tell me?"  
Somehow I felt that I must be still dreaming. Yesterday's events were only just creeping back into memory. It all seemed very surreal. Very sudden.

And here he was, and we weren't in the middle of the forest, and he wasn't in the clothes he should be, and the duvet was too heavy and warm, and the air was too stifling and smelt of nothing.

"The night my father died." I answered flatly, the words soaking my limp body in chills again.  
He nodded, but said nothing. He knew there was nothing to be said.

"And more." I found myself confessing, though I didn't want to say it aloud, I didn't want to admit the gut-wrenching truth of what I'd seen.  
"Aye."  
"On that night," my throat was dry and my voice was pathetic, "when I saw him there, I turned and saw _her _watching me. And I ran. But this was different."

I couldn't say it.

As I squeezed my eyelids shut, trying to blacken out the dregs of the picture, he moved.  
A sturdy, certain arm slid between my shoulders and the mattress. It curled itself around me and swiftly scooped me up, my head rolling against his shoulder.

Quite suddenly I was sitting in the heated cradle of his embrace, pressed against his broad, protecting torso with his free arm now making up the circle around me. The soft velvety fabric of my father's surcoat caught the moisture from my cheek. He smelled of home, of the years gone by, but he felt like a whole new universe. This universe of a man.

His calloused palm cupped my neck as his thumb traced the line of my jaw with infinite gentleness.  
"You are not going to be that Queen." he murmured, where his breath stirred against my head. "Don't you think on it, you silly lass."

**'Journey To Fenland'.**

"But it was me." I dared to open my eyes and the tears escaped haphazardly, but now I could see the tawny strands of his hair dangling, and the firm line of his shoulder, and the bulge of his sinewy arm around me, and the sight was more than comforting.

"I had his blood on my dress. Her dress."  
"Just your mind playing tricks on you." He could speak so smoothly when he wanted to, like the ripple of water over slick stones, cool and inviting, "And no wonder. It has many dark places to take you. But not for long."

He curled his arms tighter around my shoulders, bending his head over me, shielding me from the whole world.  
The extra pressure seemed to mend me, as though he were moulding my broken chest back into place.

How had he known what I saw?  
Did it even matter? I had more to accomplish today than I had in my whole venture so far.  
I shouldn't be worrying about things like uncanny telepathy when I had to read the minds of the whole kingdom myself, and somehow conjure up the answers to all of their problems.

It was incredibly pleasant, here in the sanctuary of my friend's embrace.  
I wanted it to last just a little longer.

However, loud footsteps were echoing down the corridor, and the huntsman's head lifted from my own. His arms retreated, and he sat straight in his guard's chair, expression falling into blandness.

A lucky thing, for just then the door burst open, and William sprang through it like a frenzied hound, his arms raised stiffly as he clutched his loaded bow.  
The arrow was trained immediately upon the only other person in the room who wasn't me. The huntsman.

"No!" I cried, throwing myself forwards until I was almost falling over the chair he sat in.

It took a few moments for William to decide not to shoot. Clearly the thought that I had been violated was raging in his mind - he had never much liked my rough-mannered friend and trusted him less. Now that showed through unmistakeably. I could feel the huntsman returning his scowl over my shoulder.

As I righted myself William finally lowered his weapon, and cleared his throat awkwardly.  
He averted his eyes from my undergarments, choosing a respectfully distanced spot at the foot of the bed to concentrate on.

"Are you alright? Why did you scream?" he asked in a blunt, indifferent tone that didn't match the fierce blush of his cheeks.

That hurt. After the ordeal we had only just been through - after seeing me trekking dirty and dog-tired across the country, dressed in mail like a man, sweaty and flushed from battle - he couldn't look at me without embarrassment in my night clothes.

My heart leapt for him, though, knowing that it could only be out of respect for my virtue.  
Soon that wouldn't be a barrier between us.

"I had a bad dream. Come and sit." I urged, lowering myself back into bed so I could throw the covers over my indecent self and ease his discomfort.  
He looked as though he was about to refuse me, his eyes darting momentarily to the huntsman - something flashed there that I didn't recognise - but then he marched over and slumped onto the edge of the mattress.

I could see the relief on his face as his legs slackened, freed from his weight.  
"You haven't been standing up all night, have you?" I fretted.

"Most of it."  
"You shouldn't have. You need rest."  
"Everyone needs rest, but duty comes first."

_Duty_ meaning my protection. I felt horribly guilty, but he noticed my consternation and tried to pull up one corner of his mouth in a smile.

"I would rather you were safe, Snowdrop."  
He said the last word with wonderfully sarcastic intonation.  
His teasing, horrible name for me when we were just children. I used to hit him really hard when he called me that. It made me feel like a pathetic girl.

I'd proven him wrong at last yesterday, riding into war. But I still grimaced as I laughed, and threw a small, round cushion at him for good measure.  
"When I'm Queen, I'll have you beaten for calling me that."

"I think you beat me enough times over the years. I've had my punishment. If anything I deserve a few more turns."  
Another cushion sailed through the air and connected with his head.

He laughed, his lean, exhausted features lighting up and becoming beautiful.  
The nightmare seemed like a passing fancy of thought, now. A harmless thing cast out by the sound of his brief joy.

"You must be horribly tired." I sympathised. His smile faded.  
"We have a lot to do today."  
"We have a lot of recovering to do first."

"But father said -"  
"I know. I'll talk to him," I pacified, "Surely our priority today is to recover? And help the wounded? They won't have healed overnight."

"No, they haven't. But neither has the kingdom."  
"Well. I'm sure I can afford you a few hours of sleep before discussions."

I turned to look at the huntsman, who I had utterly forgotten about for a moment.  
"And you. You definitely need rest. Unless you sneaked some sleep into your watch last night." I grinned.

His returning stare was devoid of humour.  
He didn't bother with a reply. He knew how guilty I already felt just from looking at him.

"You do need rest." I repeated, weakly, "William, will you go and call the girls to prepare rooms? I can't have you sleeping in the hallways."  
"Of course." he muttered.

His dark grey halos were trained, like his arrow had been, upon the huntsman.  
My friend, on the other hand, was glaring determinedly at the stone flags under his feet, brow furrowed, hands tense upon the chair arms.

All of the light-heartedness I had fleetingly been able to distract myself with was dampened under the weight of their cold stares.

William rose slowly, reluctantly.  
"I'll send one of the maids in to help you dress, Princess." he commented, and it stung slightly, knowing that he intended some deeper meaning beneath it.

Then he turned on his heel and trudged out, looking worn and fragile even from behind.

"Well," my friend growled unnervingly, "We've a rough day ahead of us."  
And, as always, he was right.


	8. Chapter 8

****Sorry for the slow updating! Manic life at the moment. More romantic action will happen soon, but I thought this was an important moment that got left out of the film. Like so many other moments! Enjoy.

* * *

**8.  
**_And if you stand on winter's wall, with the Snow behind you  
Then don't look back and don't let me find you  
Just carry on straight and shake off the frost  
'Cause I am deep winter, and I'll just get you lost.  
_

* * *

I had watched men die, and now I would watch them disappear under the earth.

My first real, official act as the resurrected princess, the kingdom's hope for the future, was as morbid a thing as overseeing the funeral of the soldiers who had died to get me here.

William's strength was a towering, resounding thing beside me - he sheltered me from the holy man not feet from us, who was reciting a mournful passage as the surviving men and handful of women stood in silent reflection.

His dark locks stirred in the sea breeze; his boots were planted firmly in the grassy sand where the mass grave had been dug. He was sturdy, ever true and achingly beautiful. His hands were folded in front of him, but I knew they itched to hold mine. I knew because I felt the same gnawing desire. I wanted his fingers slotted between mine, my anchor, united as we never were in childhood.

I thought of all these things, over and over.  
I thought them so hard that I was hardly paying attention to the ceremony.

I fought to keep at bay those other thoughts, the dangerous notions that were supposed to be caged snarling deep within me. Where they couldn't hurt anyone.

But even if I could block my own thoughts out, I still couldn't ignore the physical energy of _his _presence. The way his entire being seemed to seep out towards me and soak my body, like the eternal waves lapping at the shore not far from us.

It wasn't the bright, armoured aura that William gave off. William was a beacon, a conspicuous pillar of power at the centre of my sights.  
The huntsman was a dimmer illustration around the periphery of consciousness - less dazzling, less compact. But the more I turned my attention to those edges and corners, the more I realised that he was everywhere, surrounding me utterly.

William was the light of a burning star, up close, incandescent and perfect.  
But my huntsman was every star beyond, in that vast and overwhelming sky - while William guarded the citadel, he was roaming the universe, the forests, the mountains, keeping out all danger, before it could even reach the Duke's son's defences.

He was subtle, but irrefutible.  
He would keep me safe for the rest of my life, if I asked it of him.

And so would William, but I sensed with a pang of regret that it could never be in the same manner. There was something about me - about the huntsman - a strange unearthly thing I couldn't explain but felt was wedged deep within me - that made me feel _wholly _safe in his care. Not only physically.

He would hold me down when I woke screaming from nightmares.  
He would smooth back my hair and know everything without hearing it.

Even now, I could feel his hand enclosing mine, though he was further from me than William.  
I desired William's touch - there was a gap that needed filling - but the huntsman didn't have an empty space to close. He transcended space.

We were quietly, eternally, undeniably connected on a level that William had never even comprehended.

I was nudged gently on the arm, and started, glancing sideways at the disturber of my thoughts.  
William. Gazing down at me with a meaningful expression that only meant one thing.  
My time had come.

Duke Hammond had prepared me briefly for this, but his advice hadn't made it any less daunting.  
_"Women always sing the first lament. They will be looking to you."_

The neatly piled bodies beneath me awaited my farewell.  
Part of me wished that I could dive into the throng of corpses and pass on with them. _No more despair_...

I envied them.  
To sleep so soundly, without the weight of a world upon their shoulders.  
Without the weight of a kingdom, of a title, of a name that brought hope to all but not to its owner.

Everybody was looking at me. My ears were scorching, my throat was dry.  
I knew the song, the only song I knew appropriate for this, but I couldn't find the heart to begin it. I'd already had to say goodbye so many times.

"Princess." William urged softly, and with a small jolt, I realised that his hand really was in my own.  
It didn't feel the way I had imagined it would.

Then a low, rumbling cough from somewhere behind me interrupted the air.

Quite suddenly, it was all right. If I couldn't use my own weak voice, I could always borrow his. The voice of a lion. The voice of a true soldier.  
I had been a soldier too, I reminded myself. And I was still nothing more - singing no more than a dirge for my brothers, my equals.

I owed it to them.

The words still stuttered from my mouth awkwardly, but at least they were there.

_"Man may think that he lives long,  
But often him belies the wrench."_

I sang it to him, though my back was turned. Because he was one of them, and one of me. Because he already knew everything the song said, and unlike anybody else there, he knew the words beneath the ones I sang out loud. He knew I was afraid, he knew I was sorry, he knew I needed him.

... Did he know just how much?

The women rescued me now, picking up the thread of my lament with their own wavering voices. Some sobbed so violently their words were lost. Widows.

_"Fair weather turneth oft into rain  
And wondrously it makes its blench.  
Therefore, man, thou thee bethink,  
All shall fail, your green."_

I imagined losing either of my friends - the flashing memory of falling to my knees beside William haunted me again - and I heard my own tune faltering simply from the notion.

_Alas, there's neither King nor Queen,  
That shall not drain death's drink.  
Man, ere thou fall off thy bench,  
Thine sins thou must a-quench."_

There was a silence more profound than the dirge had been.  
The wind whipped about the company, blowing dull dirty garments into billowing beauty, whispering things to the lifeless men stacked like logs in their grave.

The ocean foamed and sloshed its way up the shore. The scent was sharp and cold, carried on the air.  
It stung of life.

Then, without warning, he was singing.  
His steady, firm notes pierced the atmosphere as heads turned to search for the source of that awful beauty. The beauty of deep, rolling, masculine sorrow.  
Sorrow mixed with such strength.

He was singing for me. In that moment, as the tune lifted me into his arms and carried me soundly to the shelter of his soul, I knew that he was creating a pact between himself, the broken bodies and I, exclusively.

I knew because he was singing Gus' song.

_"Dark the stars and dark the moon  
Hush the night and the morning gloom."_

Hot, wet droplets shocked my eyes and ambushed my skin.  
There was Gus, his bright young face among the faces. Waxy pale and moist with the tears of his horror, his pain, his departure.

His expression flooded my mind. The utter despair in his downturned mouth, the fright in his innocent eyes. His agonised breaths.

I couldn't take it. I hid my face in one hand awkwardly as my shoulders sagged with the weight of loss, so heavy upon the gathered people, seeming heaviest upon me.

William was there immediately - throwing an arm around me and pressing my head into his side, hiding me from the stares of all those strangers.  
They probably thought that I was weeping for the fallen in the grave. Or for myself. Who knew.

I listened for his voice beyond the rising calls of the company as they once again joined the lament - men now, as well as women.  
His tones were always lingering there, over my shoulder. Silently holding me to the earth just as William was holding me to himself.

_"Tell the horses and beat on your drum;  
Gone their master, gone their son.  
Dark the oceans, dark the sky  
Hush the whales and the ocean tide.  
Tell the soldiers and beat on your drum;  
Gone their master, gone their son."_

All that answered the sound of our sorrow was the everlasting surge and rush of the surf, as it drove mercilessly, heartlessly onwards up the beach, longing to claim the corpses we denied it.  
We filled the grave, shovel by shovel of earthy sand.

Then we made the long trek back over the dunes, slow and weary, so differently to the way we had charged on horseback up this same strip of beach only yesterday.  
The sea had eaten the remnants of explosions, the fallen bodies that had not made it to the castle. No blood stained the wet sands. It was as if our struggle had never happened.

One day, I thought as we ascended the ramp to the shelter of the castle - one day it would be as though we ourselves had never existed, either.  
At best, we would be twisted, perfected versions of ourselves - playing out a great game in which the mundane was not included. In which there was no aftermath. Only glory.

But oh, what a story it would make.


	9. Chapter 9

****Sorry for late updates! Thank you for your continued support xx

* * *

**9.  
**_Comfort the girl - help her understand  
no memory, no matter how sad  
no violence, no matter how bad  
can darken the heart, or tear it apart._

* * *

Eyes darkened by poverty and mistrust glared out at me from the pale grey flesh of sunken sockets. Frown lines pulled grotesquely at mouths and brows. Dirt lay unheeded between the grooves of wrinkles, under yellowed malnourished fingernails.

Each hunger-warped face was turned on me, and none of them looked joyous at my arrival. I stood at the centre of the small, stricken village I had ridden through what felt like aeons ago. It was probably something more like two weeks.

The reign of terror was over, but these people had not miraculously healed. Not like Ravenna's army had so easily submitted to my victory with more than relief.

The battle for my castle was over. But the war for my entire kingdom had only begun. My stepmother had made certain of that. Everywhere her poison and neglect lingered, like second phantoms of her own self, her imprints upon the world that would never really be wiped away. I saw her in the accusing glances of the citizens I was trying to help. In their shabby clothes and world-weary expressions, in their poking bones and their sagging shoulders.

_How do I inspire? How will I lead men? _I had asked William - what I'd _thought_ was William.  
I had been desperate then. Afraid of my inabilities, afraid of the people I needed to trust me. It all came surging back to me now, nervously fidgeting in front of these three score victims of Ravenna's greed.

_How will I ever revive them?_

Most of them appeared half-dead already. Many swayed on their feet, eyes glassy with starvation.  
They didn't need me stalling and stuttering. They needed nourishment, and sustenance was exactly what I had come here to give them.

"The princess Snow White has need to speak with you. You will listen." Duke Hammond's deep, commanding voice rang out across the tiny square - the crowds shifted a little, their furtive looks telling me what I dreaded the most. The Duke's authoritative approach was having the opposite effect that we wanted; these people didn't sympathise with those who ordered them about. They had had enough of that treatment to last them lifetimes.

My throat was tickling with anxiety. I coughed, trying to clear it, and suddenly all eyes were on me.  
But once again, almost as much at the back of my mind as behind me physically, I could feel him guarding me. He hadn't come from this village, but he knew the people as well as he knew himself, and he would protect me from their thoughts as much as their hands.

He was my invisible coat of armour.  
For a moment, I wished that I could simply step into him - step inside his skin, and let his gruff tone and his towering muscular frame carry out my every task, so much more efficiently than I ever could. How simple life would be if we were one and the same person.

How simple life would be if we were together.

That thought leapt out of nowhere. It invaded my mind like a predator, too swift to chase away or hold at bay. It scoured through me, burning through my every part, looking for a trace of negativity in my body.  
But there was none. None at all.  
It scared me.

My entire being seemed to warm and glow softly as the notion crept through me, smoothing out my tense muscles and numbing my fear.  
I welcomed it, as one welcomes a familiar friend, with no hesitancy or regret.  
As though it were exactly right. As though that was the way it was supposed to be, and always had been.

As this realisation struck me, more profoundly than any real declarations or confessions ever could, I felt the entire world humming with energy for just an instant. As though something were happening beyond me, coming from me, linking me into a circle of something that I didn't fully comprehend.

But it wasn't a thought I was allowed to have.

Slowly, painfully, I extricated myself from it. Held it at arm's length to observe it fully.  
It looked balefully back at me like the solid, hard face of truth.  
It frightened me so much that I threw it from me, like a poisonous snake. I took a single, shaking breath, trying to rid myself of this, trying to concentrate on the real task in front of me.

Thoughts like that were dangerous.  
Thoughts like that were to be ignored, as I had been ignoring them so far. They were to be carefully locked away in a safe, forgettable place. In the tower prison of my mind. Along with all those years of memories in the real tower.

"Hello." I stammered, finally, to those people who didn't have time to think about love or belonging. Only food, where their next meal was coming from. "I have loaves for you. And game. And broth, though I'm sorry it's cold."

And that was it. My collection of soldiers began to empty the cart, encouraging my village citizens to queue in an orderly fashion for their first good meal in forever.  
And I was redundant. Except to oversee the handing out of goods, and long to do it myself. Long to place bread into the open palms of my new friends, and to see a faint spark of hope in the contact of their eyes with mine.

Instead I hovered, and the heart-wrenching notions that I was fighting to hold off buzzed around me, relentlessly. No matter how I batted them away, they always realighted on my shoulders, weighing me down.

I briefly allowed myself to look his way, and my heart jerked out of its place as his sky-blue halos brushed against my gaze. For a second we were communicating, thinking the same thoughts, knowing one another all too well.

I wondered if he knew what I was thinking.

The pull that he exerted sickened me, and I had to look down for fear that he would take me right off my feet and haul me towards him on strength of allure alone.

I couldn't handle this.  
I felt dirty, as though I were already a traitor in deeds as well as in my imagination.  
William could never know. Could never suspect.

But as I turned my stare towards him instead, I caught a glimpse of his expression. It was subtly but unmistakeably disconcerted, envious, angry.  
And it was directed at the huntsman.

Now the war for my kingdom seemed so effortless. There was only one choice to be made; to do the right thing.  
In these unfamiliar waters, the right thing danced and swirled out of my reach. Perhaps it was more than one thing. Perhaps there was no right.

In either case - I dropped my eyes from William and concentrated on my many neutral subjects - no matter which path I chose or swerved from, I couldn't prevent pain this time, and I could never see myself as a worthy leader of anything.


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

_Wanderers this morning came by  
Where did they go  
Graceful in the morning light  
To banner fair  
To follow you softly  
In the cold mountain air  
_

* * *

Slowly but surely, with the help of carts and horses, we covered the remaining five villages that lay between the castle and the Dark Forest. Each time I was automatically hassled to the centre of a square and expected to prove myself to these suspicious, shy souls, and each time I felt as though I had only just managed to convince them that I wasn't another Ravenna. They probably didn't care so long as they were fed.

My huntsman wasn't the only huntsman abiding in the castle, apparently. The amount of fresh game that was handed out surprised me; heavy, rich and satisfying compared to the rough loaves and vegetable broth.

At the close of each ceremonious distribution, I remembered to announce my future availability for the villagers' requests, though the thought was paralyzing.

"I have fed you." I found myself stammering time and time again, "Soon I will help you to feed yourselves. Soon you will be clean and clothed and warm. Once the basic needs of the kingdom are fulfilled, come to me, and I will heed you and protect you."

It was always answered with murmurs of mixed reaction. Some scoffed, some seemed impressed. Others remained patiently neutral. Whatever their thoughts, I was determined in each of these moments to prove myself to them. Not for my sake, but so that I could see those sallow faces filling out, and hear their tones rising to joy and relief, eventually.

Despite the less than respectful way they regarded me, my hands itched to comfort them. My eyes stung when I witnessed the evidence of their real, brutal poverty – the way they gobbled their food as though it would be torn from their fingers at any second, their eyelids closing over with the rush of pure satiation and relish. Even I had never known hunger like this. Ravenna had been much kinder to me, her enemy, than to her subjects.

The trek back to the castle in the gathering darkness was long and weary. I wanted to ride, but I could feel my bones becoming stone weights. One good night's sleep hadn't been enough to alleviate the sheer fatigue that the past two weeks had nurtured within me. I was practically falling out of the stirrups, trying not to slump over my horse's neck, trying not to fall asleep in front of everybody.

William was the first to rush to my aid. We had barely gotten half a mile from the last village when he halted the whole company, leapt off his ever-patient mare, and grabbed my waist before I could slip sideways.

"The princess needs rest."

I leaned heavily on his shoulder, still sitting sideways on my poor horse. Everything span – or rather, my head couldn't stop spinning, couldn't get a grip. My eyes kept swerving from left to right without my permission.

He supported me with his strongest side, trying to encourage me to swing my far leg over so he could help me down. His breathing was tight and controlled, as though he was finding my weight difficult.

"You alright, Snowdrop?" he chuckled quietly, "Have you forgotten how to dismount?"

I was ready to let my eyes fall shut and go to sleep on him right then, but the abrupt sound of two more feet hitting stony soil alerted me that the huntsman had joined William on the ground, not far off.  
Just the thought of him striding towards me, the expectation of his hands on me, managed to spark a little life back into my body.

I made an effort, and moved my leg over the saddle so that I could slide gracelessly to the ground. William gripped me hard, lessening the impact of the floor for me, but my knees still buckled slightly as my heels crunched against the dirt.

Quite immediately, they were both there, the huntsman's hands grasping me under my arms to bear most of my pathetic dead weight, William's still firmly around my waist.  
"She's fine." My childhood friend growled between his teeth, "She just needs rest."

"Yes, at the castle," was the huntsman's retort.  
I straightened myself up, finding my feet, and gazed from side to side at the both of them blearily. I must have looked like a dozy imbecile, hardly the regal leader. And the entire group – Duke Hammond, soldiers, everyone – were watching me being propped up by these two men like a sulking child.

I was sinking, though. Even at this tense moment that I barely registered.  
Giving in, I closed my eyes and let my head loll. It rested upon William's metal-clad shoulder.

"I can take her. She'll go before me on my horse," he stated.  
"Is everything alright?" Hammond's call rang out from some distance off.

"I should carry her to my steed, she can't afford to fall." rumbled my lion in a voice that matched William's and then some.

I was referring to the huntsman as a lion. I really must be half asleep.  
More than half.

"She _won't _fall." William hissed, real venom seething in his words, "Not if she's with me."  
A low chortle vibrated against my body, quietly insulting him.  
"It's better to be safe than sorry."  
"What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that my… stature is more convenient for her assistance."  
A pause, in which I could hear angry breaths whooshing past my face and rustling my hair.  
"Your _stature _is irrelevant. _You_ are irrelevant. Stand aside and let me take care of her."

The huntsman bristled, and I began to wake up enough to feel afraid. Because if there was anything I should be afraid of, it was a showdown between the two men I was torn between, a fact that stood no matter how much I avoided or denied it every day.

"People are looking," the huntsman warned, "I suggest you stop fussing so I can help her."  
"_I _am supposed to help her!"  
"Does she say so?"  
"She isn't saying anything, she's unconscious!"

"Well, then."  
I was lifted bodily out of William's arms and cradled against my friend's broad, beating chest.  
"What right have you to take her?" his opponent wasn't giving up, though his tone was still deadly quiet.

"I'm more capable. That's all it is."  
"Not at all."  
"Then put her down, and let her go with me. It's where she belongs."

I reached up a lead-heavy hand to poke the huntsman, to warn him against doing anything I might be upset about when I woke up later. The soft, warm blanket of his embrace clouded me and made it difficult to do anything but drift, and forget.

"There's been enough of a scene here." I heard his voice, far off now, and felt a sharp tug as William's hands were extricated from me. Then the rhythmic rise and bump of the huntsman's controlled steps under me.

"We're practically betrothed, huntsman."

My friend froze, his arms tightening a little around me. The single gesture made it clear to me how much he felt that one sentence, how much it really meant to him that I might belong to somebody else.  
He was hurt.  
And that wasn't allowed. It just wasn't.

"No." I murmured, loud enough only for the huntsman to catch the word. My hand, rested against his torso, vaguely pinched his clothes in a fatigued, brave and very dangerous attempt at affection.

"No?" he whispered back, conspiringly. As though he wasn't going to allow himself to believe my protest held the meaning he wanted.  
"Go." I urged, or rather sighed, intending that he should just put me on his horse and take off before William could cause any more trouble.  
"What?"

"Let's go." I managed.  
Finally. Without turning back to glare at William, my huntsman resumed his leisurely pace, and I was lifted as easily as a child onto a new steed. He held me steady as he mounted too, and then his inescapable arms were holding the reins around me. Protecting and encasing me. Freeing me from the fight. From the jealous man who must by now be getting onto his own horse, seething.

"If you really are betrothed to him he'll have me to answer to, someday soon."  
The lion's growl was no more than a passing, meaningless string of words travelling through my head.

Past that I couldn't think any more. Black emptiness took me by the hand and led me down into blissful ignorance, stealing me from the world.

Until tomorrow, where challenges more arduous and threatening than today's hovered on the crisp red line of the dawn horizon.

I could only hope that he would be there to guard me from the worst of it.


	11. Chapter 11

This is my last update for at least ten days, going to Spain, sorry I couldn't write a better chapter but I'm knackered! Huntsman love xx

* * *

**11**

_It's a harder way and it's come to claim her  
And I always say we should be together  
I can see below __'__cause there's something in here  
And if you are gone__, __I will not belong here__._

* * *

_Well, here you are, all dressed up like you're about to wake up and give me more grief. Am I right?_

A darkling world that was in one moment so clear and believable, in the next was suddenly swirled away. I was floating, in the centre of myself, completely alone.

And then I could feel warm light on my face, feel the pillows under my head and the heavy duvet over my body. I woke refreshed and vivid with life, so swiftly and smoothly that it felt as though I had only closed my eyes for a moment.

It wasn't like any ordinary morning.  
This one would stand out forever in my mind as one of the most disconcerting and moving of my short lifetime.

Even as my eyelids slid back and opened up my surroundings to me, I could only see one image - crystal clear and sharp as glass, echoing around my thoughts and delving into every recess - soaking me with a notion of absolute purity, of certain and unbroken bliss.

It was him. Just him.

My body felt infused and permeated with an external peace, as though a blanket had been thrown over my head, as though I had been lowered into a warm bath.

Everything that was good and hopeful about the world seemed to have been distilled down to this one point in time, into this one person - image of a person.  
I must have been dreaming about him.

It must have been a dream to remember.

Too bad that I had forgotten it already. This pristine picture that I held onto now was just the dregs.  
And the feeling I held onto was nonsensical, even though it felt so right.

A soft snoring to my left broke my thoughts and made me smile.  
From dreams to reality, he was there. Always.  
Nowadays.

"Peter." I said aloud, beaming up at my turret ceiling, "Is that your name?"

I glanced at him as I finished speaking, and then jumped.  
I nearly cried out in fright. But there was no need to be alarmed. Not really.

William was slumped in the chair that the huntsman had occupied last night. His head rested to the side, dark waves spilling over his forehead into his eyes. His lips were ajar, his face expressionless.

Despite the fact that he wasn't who I thought he'd be, my stomach flipped over as I noticed how very beautiful he looked, with the morning light streaming over him, half-silhouetting his form.  
In his hand he still held a sword, glinting and lethal.

I was awfully, overwhelmingly glad that he hadn't heard me.

Then it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't remember having gotten into bed.

Had I – I hadn't – couldn't have – just dropped off midway through the journey back?  
How embarrassing.

I could scratch a few glimpses of memory now. The thing I seemed to remember most was the feeling of strong, invincible arms on either side of my waist, holding reins in front of me… my head turned to rest against a broad shoulder… an unknown whisper in my ear.

But hadn't William been helping me off the horse?

As the pieces slowly clicked into place and I shuddered with the humiliation and awkwardness of it all, he stirred in his chair. I lay still, just watching him waking up.

He _was_ undeniably beautiful. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, his limbs stretching out the stiffness, his neck arching back and making his hair tumble gracefully. His eyes finally opened, and he rubbed the sleep from them. So tranquil and still, like untouched grey wells, not their usual stormy, flashing selves.

The first hint of recognition as he looked around the room sent a shiver of pleasure through me.  
The conspiring gleam in his eye, the dimple when he smiled for me as he registered my presence, almost made me catch my breath.

"I hope you slept well. You were an awful lot of trouble to carry up here." he joked, sitting up straight and stretching his back casually.  
He seemed so at ease, compared with the last time he had been in here. Seeing me with the huntsman. Me being _e__mbraced _by the huntsman, in no more than my night clothes.

Reflecting upon it – I could begin to see why William never looked at him in comradeship or even trust. Or even indifference.  
Was I so obvious in my dilemma?

I tried, just one more time, to tell myself that there was no dilemma. That William was my future king and lover, by rights and by my desires. That there was no other.  
And even if there was, it would pass soon enough.

It was just so easy to become _temporarily_ besotted with a man who was hulking and harsh. Who kept saving my life, kept proving himself to be worthy – proving himself to be magnetic in his true, roguish personality.

A more attractive personality than I could ever hope to have.

With William's newly opened eyes gazing warmly down into mine, I suddenly felt cold. And crestfallen.  
Because there was a flaw in my thoughts that I had never noticed before, and it was called Assumption.

What was the use in being besotted with somebody who probably thought I had as much personality as a brick wall? Who very likely didn't feel the same way that I did, not half as fiercely, or deeply? Who realistically didn't even know about my feelings for him anyway?

_My feelings for him.  
_As soon as there was a danger of me losing my far flung chance, I was suddenly blurting out all of these dramatic things that I really wished weren't true.  
Two minutes ago I would have denied all knowledge of _feelings_, even to myself, even if I knew it was false.

God, help me.

I forced a smile, all of these hazardous thoughts only taking up the slightest gap between William's words and my reaction.

"I'm sorry. I feel so pathetic." I grimaced.  
"Don't. You don't have to shame yourself for anybody." he soothed me, tentatively reaching forward to hold my hand on top of the covers, "You've lived through the worst conditions any of us could imagine, for so long now. Even before all of this started."

The way he bluntly laid out the truth should have made me embarrassed, but it didn't.  
I _had _been locked in a tower. And we both knew it. And I wasn't going to sit there and pretend that I was normal to my closest friend.

"But yes," he continued suddenly, breaking his grasp and grinning as he sat back, "you were rather pathetic. Snowdrop."

I wanted so badly to ask where the huntsman was, but the clench in my gut told me that it was not the thing to enquire of William. Not now.

"Would you like me to call your girls?" he said suddenly, as if he knew my eagerness to get downstairs and start the day – I urgently hoped he didn't know_ all_ of the reasons for it.  
I didn't even register his faint hope that I would say _No, stay for a while_, before a "Thank you" was escaping from my mouth instead.

I immediately felt hideous.

I _did _want him to stay.  
But I wanted to go to the Huntsman more.

"Very well." he quirked a smile through a disappointed expression, "I'll go to my father and tell him you'll be ready shortly."

The sword whooshed back into its sheath, he rose without any delay, and casting me one last wistful look, he marched straight out of my chamber, leaving me half desolate, half relieved.

What was happening to me?


	12. Chapter 12

**12**_  
__If only I could see your face, instead of rushing towards the skyline  
I wish that I could just be brave  
I must become a lion hearted girl, ready for a fight  
Before I make the final sacrifice._

* * *

The feminine hum of compliments and gossip swirled around me like a hive of friendly bees. The girls were excited today. It was there in the higher pitch of their voices and the clearer blush of their cheeks; they could feel the land beginning to heal. They could sense the peoples' spirits rising.

I refused to waste time and water bathing in that colossal tub on my own. After deliberation about propriety and class difference that I had to firmly dispel, they all splashed in with me, probably feeling like queens themselves.

Now, toweled and clothed, they were setting about finding me the perfect dress for my new day. I waited in my chamber, fidgeting in my shift.

This day, and the next few to come, would carry phase two of the kingdom's resurrection. Organising and planning for the future. Making things work again. Kick starting the trade and the crops.

But not before my interview with the highest ranking of Ravenna's army - recovered enough to travel by Hammond's judgment. My stomach was seizing up just thinking about it. The situation hung over a dangerous precipice as it was; handling this the right way was going to be vital.

I knew that I meant the best for everyone, but I'd been in solitude since childhood. Tact and diplomacy were foreign things to me. How would I know that I was saying the right words? How would I work my way out of potential dilemmas?

I nodded politely at the incandescent ocean-blue gown exhibited in front of me. Greta clapped her hands in excitement, and the girls piled into my room and set to work. Bethany had apparently decided that I couldn't go on wearing my hair loose and ordinary forever - she was armed with a comb and two delicately carved hair pins.

"Soon your Majesty will have gowns made more to your taste." Greta said, almost apologetically, as I stepped into the folds of fabric and she pulled them up around me.  
"I would sooner wear my real clothes."

I sounded spoiled, but the dress was tight, and revealed an awful lot of cleavage. I felt unsafe, too prissy and perfected.

"I would die to wear a dress like this." Bethany murmured as her fingers worked systematically along my head.  
"You're welcome to try them on."  
"Are you joking?"  
"Majesty! Really?"

"You don't have to call me that." They sounded as though I'd just given them a kingdom. Why shouldn't they be allowed to step into some rich clothes, if only in private?

"The amount of times I have _gaped _at the witch's dresses and wished - but there, now." Bethany had finished the two elfin plaits that twisted my hair up on either side, "We are the lucky ones. We are only fat because we've worked in the kitchens all these years."

"Fat?" I looked her up and down. She was no fuller than me.  
"Soon we will all be fat." Greta beamed, tightening the crisscrossed ribbons of the gown's back. I winced.

"Am I ready? They are probably waiting for me."  
"Just step into these shoes, Majesty."

I was obeying, tilting a little and leaning against Greta's arm, when footsteps resounded in the corridor just outside. Then a swift knock which waited for no response before the door was pushed impatiently aside, and a figure as radiant as royalty strolled in.

Greta felt the sudden pressure on her forearm as I nearly tipped sideways, just managing to fit the shoe on and rebalance myself in time to greet him.

In a panic-stricken moment of guilt I found myself thinking, _she knows, she knows now_.  
Quite abruptly, I realised the full extent of my self-deceit. I had given myself away to myself, in the instant that I'd given myself away to my maid.

I felt utterly foolish and hopeless and clumsy as I straightened, reaching to tuck hair aside that was already plaited for me, and so letting my hands drop and clasp as I stared at his shoes. My father's shoes, fitting a little too perfectly on his well-planted, sturdy feet.

"There she is." he exclaimed quietly, and his voice was that of some tame beast's, like the viscous dark gaze of the stag who had allowed me to touch him, though he was bigger than me, than his own body, bigger than everything, and all-powerful.

I felt the awful urge to reach out to this parallel creature now, to feel the silky mane and rough jaw and the glance of acceptance upon me, small and unequal as I was. He wouldn't turn me away.

_Don't flatter yourself_, I heard the past echo of grim humour.  
And suddenly I shrank away. Only a slight flinch, the smallest fraction of a motion backwards, but he saw.

"Everything alright?" he sent a cursory glance around the girls, then back to me, his smile stiffened but still intact.  
I nodded apologetically, suppressing my desire to bolt.

"Haven't you had your clothes washed yet?" I asked, accidentally hinting at how much it hurt to see him in my father's velvety blue surcoat, his silk shirt. How much I wished, against all better judgment, that I would always be able to see the huntsman in royal clothes. Because the implications of that wish were monumental and awful.

Once again, he looked taken aback. He'd been so ready to be his jovial self. I felt ashamed.

"I mean, I can arrange it all for you, if you like. Where did you put them? In your chamber?" I was babbling and hoping that I wasn't visibly blushing. Bad start to the day. Bad start.

"Thank you, I would appreciate it. I've not much idea about how washing works in the castle." he tried a tentative crooked smile that made me wish I didn't have eyes, it did such powerful things to me. "I just came up to ensure you were prepared for the meeting – and to ask if you've guessed my name yet."

The soft glint of conspiracy and pleasure in his blue halos finally thawed away my inhibitions and my nerves. How could I stand here saying such rude things, being petrified of my every thought and feeling, when he was trying to make me comfortable? I wanted to run into his mighty arms like a child.

Greta squeezed my hand, and the shock it sent up my arm told me that she understood. She was trying to communicate – sympathy? Or warning?

"That will be all, thank you." I directed the comment at the girls, who reluctantly tiptoed away.

My heartbeat kicked into real action as the door shut behind them.  
This was it. If there was ever a chance to tell him that he haunted my every living hour, that the sight of his unkissed lips was becoming sheer agony, that I thought I might be beginning to love him – now was the moment.

"Lyle." I jested instead, raising my mouth in a smirk. A very unconvincing one.  
"No."  
"How many guesses do I have?|  
"As many as you need."  
"Can't I just give up?"  
"No!" he chuckled deeply in his broad chest, "That would be against the rules. My lips are sealed, remember."

A pause. His beam faded as he glanced at my bed, and I realised he must be thinking about William, and this morning.

I broached the subject, feeling I could at least deal with this, skirting around the edges of the real topic in hand. "I feel a bit pathetic… fainting on the way home."  
"Aye. Dropping off the side of your horse. You emanated royalty."

"Don't talk to your princess that way."  
"I shall talk to my _companion _any way I please." his quiet laughter joined his words together seamlessly, "You owe me enough, princess, after all the times I've saved you."

"Let's not forget the times _I_ have saved _you_." I teased back.

His reactionary expression was not what I'd anticipated at all. Rather than mimicking indignation or even agreement, he dropped his gaze and his grin, and his dark brows drew together.  
There was silence, heavy with a meaning he obviously intended to keep hidden from me.

"Aye." his tone was thick and so low I could barely hear, his hand raking along the back of his neck to his jaw, where it rested, rubbing thoughtfully, "You've rescued me more times than you could count."

My hands balled up into useless fists, as I tried to control their need to touch him.  
My lower lip got caught up by my teeth as I tried not to blurt out something confessional and dangerous to him.

Glancing up at me, he translated this as anxiety of a different kind, and his expression softened into concern.

"Don't be nervous about today." he murmured, "We will all be with you. They haven't shown any hostility so far. They should go gladly, after all you've done for them - and I doubt anybody could be hostile to you now, wearing that dress."

The last part he added with a hint of gentle irony, and looking down, I remembered the tight, cleavage-revealing bodice holding me together. Now he'd done it. I couldn't possibly get away with the fierce burning I could feel in my cheeks this time.

He must have read my refusal to look up at him as distress, for suddenly he was taking a short step forward, and my blood started to jump in my veins.

"Snow White." he uttered my name as though it were a baby bird wrapped up in his voice, a delicate and delightful thing. It pricked my heart cruelly, because I was hearing too much, hearing the things I wanted to, and what I wanted couldn't become a reality.

Another step, another kick in the gut.

"I know you don't feel strong."  
_How can I feel strong when you're so close? I can't think, I can't breathe.  
_"But if I kept you safe for all that time, in the darkest part of our land, don't you trust me to protect you in the walls of your own kingdom?"

At that the whole room lurched sickeningly, because my immediate thought was that I only needed protecting from his temptation, and the only way to do that was to send him away.  
If he left, I would cease to be anything.

"Won't you look at me?"

I couldn't bear the tenderness that I knew I'd find in his face, so I pretended to scratch my ear while I dabbed at my eye.  
Then it happened. His arms unfolded and spread out towards me, and his scent wafted over like a memory, and I lost sense of everything else except the horrid space between us and the sole thought of eliminating it.

I teetered, as one who is about to jump from a precipice.

And then I collided softly with his torso, not remembering when I had made the choice, and I was engulfed in the warm, hazy cage of an embrace that I had been craving forever, without realising.

It was different from the morning I had awoken screaming. I'd been too appalled then to notice the exact shape of his body, the way his muscles moved under his skin, to drink in his radiating heat and the hard tenderness of him.  
Now I found my palms pressed to his ribs, my cheek to his heart.

Slowly, my forearms moved over his wide shoulders to encircle his neck while I buried my face in his collar. His body moved instinctively with mine, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other moving around my waist as intimately as any childhood friend.

We inhaled simultaneously, slowly, in the significant way that people only do when they embrace. I could feel his eyes closing intuitively, and knew that he was drifting through this fracture in time too.

I had never been held this way before. Not by anybody other than my parents.  
It wasn't frightening.

The low rumble of satisfaction in his chest vibrated against me, and my muscles burned with the ache of longing. My shy desire combusted into an open flame – all it would take was a slight movement, a tilting of my jaw, and his mouth would be locked on mine. It was so easy.

"Thank you." I muttered, tightening my hold for a split second before freeing him, in a way that suggested finality.  
He complied as obediently as any servant, immediately loosening his grasp and backing away.

"Will you stop whining now?" he smirked, all seriousness gone.  
"I don't whine!" I laughed, wishing I had something to throw at him, " – Tristram."  
"Not even close. Let's go before they send anyone else up here to find you."

William leapt into my mind, and from the steely edge that had entered his voice I knew that was what he'd intimated. I should have been angry with him.

Instead, I ushered him out of my chamber, bracing myself for the first monumental task of the day.


	13. Chapter 13

**13  
**_I want your silent parts, the parts the birds love  
I know there's such a place  
I had my back turned, you didn't __realise__ I'm lonely  
Say hello, say hello to the angels._

* * *

"Where are we meeting with him?"  
"Separated from the mob still lounging in your great hall," he answered tonelessly, "The dwarves and the best of the soldiers are watching them whilst we arrange matters."

"You still don't trust them?"  
"Why would I? You must remember the day they arrived, princess."

I did remember, vaguely, and I flinched away from what he was really trying to say. That these men had always been an army of darkness, and had come to Ravenna's aid through their own greed; the people I sheltered weren't worthy of my food or medicine.

Though it struck me with conviction, I didn't regret helping them. Perhaps they had become a force of evil for a reason.  
Perhaps this would change their minds, if only a few individuals.

The huntsman was leading me into the eastern arms of the castle, far from my central chambers that sat directly above the hall. I only hazily remembered this area – I hadn't had much need to venture there before. It was where Father had gone to do his official business, often with Duke Hammond himself, and the lower-ranking Counts who controlled the rest of the lands under them.

As if reading my thoughts, my friend glanced over his shoulder at me. "Hammond says that the Counts and Squires have been informed of this – they may ask to meet with you soon, if they have anything significant to say about it."

"Will they?"  
"It will depend on where those men go. As you said – logically they must have come from somewhere. But they do not talk, least of all about their home. Perhaps Payne will open up to you. You have a way with people."

"That's his name? Their leader?" I asked, though the more burning question was _How do I have a __**way **__with people?  
_"The High Constable, yes. Apparently he doesn't have a first name." he said, with a hint of ironic humour.

The idea made him sound inhuman, untouchable. Likely the way he wanted to be perceived.  
"Is he very intimidating?"  
The huntsman laughed, a rumbling hearty genuine laugh.

"Not as intimidating as I will look when I recover my axe, and take up position beside you." his brows contracted for just a second, "The Duke's son will be on your other side. You'll be quite safe."

A large, rough, hot hand swooped down to squeeze mine, just for an instant.

"Thank you." I muttered, ducking my head to hide my consternation and pleasure, "You do too much for me."  
"Nobody could do enough for their future Queen."  
"But even before you knew who I was…"

This was a terrible time to try and express anything vaguely emotional to him, but the words were out of my mouth, and with every new syllable I felt as though I had to go deeper, I had to let him know. Each word left a hunger, a new thought unsaid, each more significant and heavy than the last. It was important that he knew. I had never really thanked him or acknowledged our – our connection? Was that the best way to put it?

"You've – always been there. You've never given up on me."  
"You have a very selective memory, princess." he paused to rotate his body and smile dotingly on my naïve praise.

I pulled up short, and his closeness and beauty once again threatened me.  
But then I laughed, at myself. I _was_ being sentimental and silly.

"I do, yes. Maybe I am too grateful." I teased him, "Maybe I should be more wary."  
"Wary?"  
"If you managed to run away from me once, and if matters become too strained here…" I realised there was a genuine pang of paranoia in my voice, in my gut.

He had begun to walk again, but now he swung around and planted himself fully in my path, all hints of mockery completely evaporating. His intense frown made his eyes more piercing than ever. I somehow felt as though I had said something heinous, offended him deeply.

"I would never abandon you." he stated, solidly, in that thundering wild accent, "Never doubt that."  
"I don't."

I wasn't lying; how could I doubt his earnest expression, even if I'd doubted seconds ago?

"What makes you so sure of yourself, anyway?" I tried to infuse a little light-heartedness back into the conversation as we paced on. We must have been nearing the meeting place by now; my stomach knotted.

He was silent for a moment, long enough to make me anxious. To teeter over the edge of doubt again.

"It isn't an option for me." he replied gruffly, finally, "Leaving here. I am a different person now, because of – this journey. I came to a certain realisation. Not long ago."  
"What realisation?" I was piqued now, genuinely distracted from the impending interview. The way he held back suggested so many different possibilities.

He might have been trying to tell me something.  
Or maybe he preferred me to stay out of his personal business – which was likely more complex and secret than I had the right to know about.

It struck me that there was a lot about the huntsman that I didn't know yet.  
Like his life story. His whole life, before he had been sent to capture me.

And now was not the right time or place to be contemplating it.

"Now isn't the time." he growled, as though reading my mind again, "We're here."  
I started. I didn't feel ready. I didn't even have a speech prepared.

The doorway yawned at me like the mouth of a monster.  
I could face down a troll, but I wasn't sure that I could handle this with so much gusto.

"Why wasn't I born a peasant?" I breathed, utterly transfixed with trepidation.

He gave me a little playful nudge in the back, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Because who would be here, then, to save us?"


	14. Chapter 14

I can't even begin to apologise for how long it's taken me to update! But I'm back on the scene now guys, I won't let you down again. Thanks for being so patient and nice in your ongoing reviews. Regards, Dorian.

* * *

**14  
**_I'll miss the winter, a world of fragile things  
Look for me in the white forest, hiding in a hollow tree  
Come find me  
I know you hear me, I can taste it in your tears._

* * *

A spacious, cold room. Not much to decorate its purpose. A few tapestry hangings, ancient and heroic, depicting warriors. A long solid table, set with steady chairs for steady men. The place for war and counsel and all things terrifying.

I found myself grimly hoping that I'd never have to set foot in here again - and had to remind myself that it was inevitable.  
I was the monarch. This would be my most frequently visited room in the entire castle soon.  
Duke Hammond stood like a noble carving at the exact middle of the table. Guards were scattered about the sparse room, enough to intimidate without stretching the forces below, who were watching the real army.

The grey stony atmosphere seemed to lighten a little, as William turned to invite me to the table's head.  
He didn't smile, though. Nobody did.  
I was the princess, the pillar of the kingdom's strength, and Payne would witness nothing else.

The High Constable in question was sitting at the other end of the oak bench, feet flat upon the stone flags, hands pressed palms-down upon his knees. His back was uncomfortably straight. His sleek black hair and set, unshaven jaw suggested smooth manners and an iron will.

I seated myself as William scraped the chair back for me. I didn't dare move a muscle of my face.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the huntsman lifting his axe from a corner, and then his sturdy footsteps carried him to my side as promised. Two sentries on either side of me. The conspicuous, healthily glowing sun, like a tower of regal splendour, gravitating attention towards him. And the subtle moon, surly and half-hidden, but always there, always circling around me like some silent watchful guardian.

As I sank down, my uncertain enemy arose. Gracefully, slowly, so as not to scare.  
Then he bowed low. His curtains of dark hair hid his expression from me, but his motions didn't seem disrespectful. Fluid as a dancer he was back in his seat, regarding me with a blankness that matched my own cold features.

I wouldn't have met him on a battlefield for anything.

"Majesty." his tones were deep and undulating, like crushed velvet. "It is an honour."  
"I trust my men have treated you with respect?" I whipped back, though not unkindly.  
"I have been treated with surprising decency, yes. You have fed and revived us most generously."  
"You know why you have been summoned here."  
"Of course, Majesty."

My friends bristled beside me. Duke Hammond's face was fixed into a mask as he looked on, the convener, the mediator.

"Payne, where did you come from before you ransacked and occupied my kingdom?"  
It was a simple, honest question. I didn't inflect any animosity into it. But it was still a brave move.  
A move that everyone around me seemed to appreciate.

I could sense my comrades relaxing just a fraction. _The situation is in capable hands_, they were thinking. _She can look after herself._ Good – I detested the thought of being subject to my fear.  
Fear wouldn't bring freedom to my people. Fear wasn't worth thinking about.

"Our home is not far North of here. It lies across The Wash, in the Lincoln Wolds."  
"And you abandoned this home?"  
"We did whatever the witch bade us do."  
William stiffened, and placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "You will answer her Majesty directly."

Payne inclined his head slowly, never taking his eyes off William. I couldn't decide if he mocked him or not.  
"We had a king, whom she murdered. She kept us for our strength."  
I heard a more sinister meaning resting behind it. "You mean she kept you because you were ruthless killers."  
"Words can twist meanings any which way we desire, Majesty. She kept us, and used us."

I regarded him with reluctance to judge him just yet.  
"And what did you think of this witch?"  
His keen dark eyes searched me. Apparently he was musing about me, too.  
"We were relieved that she didn't subject us to starvation."  
"And admired her for her beauty?"  
"Who would not?"  
"Perhaps a usurped princess. Or any female she cared to consume."

This amused him, but barely, and with a hard irony.

"You have improved even upon her treatment. You give more food and less orders."  
"And in return you refrain from attempts upon my life, is that it?"  
He suppressed a smile. "Why would we choose to assassinate you? You are kind to us. Ravenna's bidding died with her."

He was logical. Fair and logical, without bias, without feud.  
And he was right. What reason would he have to attack now, when my threat to them had already been fulfilled and shaped into a new reality? Weren't they better off?

"I am willing to strike a bargain with you, Payne."  
"I am certain of it. There is nothing else to do, after all."  
"You know what I am going to request already."  
"Yes. You want us to leave, and never return, in exchange for your present clemency."

I nodded curtly.  
"I cannot say that I wish to cross you again, Majesty. Our greatest mistake was to underestimate you."  
"You will go?"  
"We will go. We will never come back. We will remember you. Perhaps we will be grateful."

I studied him, long and hard. He sat open to my scrutiny, almost smug in confidence of his word. The truth was no great grievance to him. He had nothing to lose.

"You give me your word. You swear homage to my kingdom."  
"I will swear homage before my men, before your people, as we withdraw from your gates forever."

I couldn't help it – I had gotten this far, and the final decision still didn't seem to be mine. I was looking up at the huntsman as though seeking permission.  
His expression was drawn and sullen – his brows closed together like a hawk's, watching Payne with a fierce lion's mistrust for the black panther.

He would never openly contradict me or assist me before our enemy. Nobody would.  
I was alone.

I sat up a little straighter, and stared squarely into the face of the High Constable.  
"Very well. You will be escorted to the great hall, and you will inform your army of your departure. I will be waiting to fare you well within the hour."

I didn't move an inch as Payne stood and bowed again – as the company of soldiers flanked and led him to the door – as they all disappeared, their armour clattering in synchronisation down the corridor.

Finally, finally, the noise receded, and no uproar occurred. Only the rhythmic pace of the guards, of the kingdom's security.

I fell forwards, thrusting my face into my crossed forearms as I leaned heavily on the great solid table, breathing at last. Electric relief flowed and suffused through me, warmth coming back to my hands and my face. It was over. The second battle, executed with much less fuss and violence than the first.

That was it.

I only stirred when a pair hands rested softly upon me, one on my shoulder, one caressing my back.  
And then I went rigid, as I realised that they belonged to two separate people.

Of course, life couldn't continue without some form of lingering battle to disturb our peace.  
Some battles were just a lot more subtle than others.


	15. Chapter 15

**15  
**_This floor is crackling cold, she took my heart, I think she took my soul  
With the moon I run, far from the carnage of the fiery sun  
Skies they blink at me, I see a storm bubbling up from the sea  
And it's coming closer._

* * *

The Duke heaved a sigh, and leaned upon the back of a chair with a world-weary expression. Meanwhile, the huntsman's sturdy hand left my shoulder, leaving me with William's softer touch.

He was restless. I could see it in the way he stepped back, and turned slightly away. He never moved unless he had to; he never fidgeted, because he was always full of purpose. The last time I'd seen him shifting like this, he'd been deciding whether to trust my word and my bribe and guide me to Hammond's castle.

"You don't think we should let them go." I stated, glancing up.  
He started, and looked down at me in surprise. Did he think he was so hard to read?  
"I am… uncomfortable."  
His eyes had riveted to the Duke, and for good reason. Hammond was frowning deeply in disagreement.

"Know your place, huntsman." he warned in a level voice, "You are here by her Majesty's will only."  
"What is your opinion?"  
"We must be rid of them immediately. We cannot have the princess in such close proximity to these men."  
"Do you trust them to stay away?"  
"I trust you to do your duty, and to respect mine."

The huntsman leaned back slightly as though evading a fatal blow. But he remained silent after that.

"They have no reason to harm us now. Their tyrant is dead, they are free to go home, and we have helped them more than we should." Hammond turned his steady, knowing gaze back to me. "It is vital that they disappear and you are properly instated as soon as possible. A princess cannot run a kingdom. After the Coronation, we must begin to focus upon our future."

"I assume you mean agriculture."  
"Agriculture, trade – and trade will mean work – revitalising the people, giving them purpose and hope."  
"And our defences." one sidelong look at the huntsman was enough to let him know that unlike the Duke, I was listening. "We are weak. We must replace my father's army."

"Certainly, that is another priority." he paced awhile, "It would be wise to gather my remaining subjects to the heart of the kingdom. I will be needed here for a long while, and the women and children are vulnerable. They must come and mourn, or be reunited with their men. It will be much simpler to conduct all within these borders – Lord knows there is room enough for the few of us."

I nodded, gradually growing confident. "We will begin from scratch. Unified."  
"Once we grow in strength and number, we will broaden our reach again." William chimed in, his face illuminated with assured enthusiasm. His hand had not left my back.

The huntsman crossed his arms subtly over his chest.  
"William." Duke Hammond suddenly seemed to realise his son's presence as an idea occurred to him, "You will travel to the Duchy and the villages in my stead. You will instruct and lead the people here."

William blinked.  
"You cannot be spared. Snow White needs you." he realised out loud.  
"I trust you to bring them, safely. The Coronation must be soon. You will go now, gather every individual from every settlement – united within these walls, they will witness the ceremony. It will be a definite beginning. A platform to progress from."

William's expression flickered between reluctance and submission. "It will take some days."  
"Ride with haste. Your kingdom and Queen depend upon you."  
He shot a glance at me, and I could see ambivalence written all over his countenance.

I didn't want to know why.  
But in my soul, I knew, and it made me tremble. It made my gut seize up and my heart thrill.  
William was afraid to leave.  
He was afraid that if he left, if he was absent for days on end…

"Am I to leave now?" he asked, his voice layered with serene obedience.  
"There is no time to waste. Ravenna's men are departing within the hour, now is the best opportunity."

I stood to bid him farewell – within minutes he would be on a horse, tearing across the country. Racing as if for his life. I knew it as plainly and instinctively as if it was happening to me.

The air was thick and twisted – the huntsman stood like a knife's point, driving rebelliously into this atmosphere that belonged to William, this moment of goodbye that should have been ours but was instead uncomfortably public and exposed, and awkward. Too awkward.

William took my hand in his own, and raised it to be kissed so fleetingly he gave the impression of coldness, of triviality. But his eyes locked onto mine inescapably – and the instant of contact was so firm, so immense and earnest and pleasing, that it seemed to stretch time for us. We stood suspended in one another, for one delicious second, and I began to feel the blush rise in my cheeks and the blood heat in my heart.

"Travel safely." I managed.  
"I look forward to the Coronation."

He turned gracefully, sinuously, and was gone.  
I looked once from Hammond to the huntsman, and felt the very room begin to breathe again.


	16. Chapter 16

**16  
**_I was waiting in the dark age, searching for the ones in my life  
I'm so far away  
But I had hit the ground running, steady as you go, I don't mind  
I'm still here today._

* * *

The slick black crown of Payne's head was presented to me.  
He knelt, his hands joining as if in prayer, extending up to me as though I were the holy Virgin. His fingers were steady as rocks. I tried to conceal my own trembling, in front of this great army, gathered reverently within the courtyard. All eyes were fixated upon me, as usual. It wasn't getting any easier.

I cast about, eyes dragging over the scene.  
And then I spotted them. Standing forward from the soldiers, diminutive and brilliant, they waved shyly to me, their beards coarse from lack of a good wash and cut over the past few days.  
Their job of watching these men would soon be over. I would perhaps be able to see them sometimes, in the gaps between this chaotic organisation. I would invite them to dine with me. We would have a real private celebration of our own, just as it was around that fire deep within the Sanctuary, not all too long ago.

A smile pulling involuntarily at my mouth, I felt a sudden swelling burst of joy. Looking at them made me realise it all over again, clear of the grief and the guilt and the strain.  
We had done it. We had achieved what we'd set out to do. I had done them all proud.  
Finally we were at peace, and they were certainly going to get more than a fair trade from me, when they went back to work. _If_ they went back to work.

I thought fleetingly of Gus.

The High Constable's voice never faltered. He had learned these words well, with all the clarity and velvet sincerity anyone could ask for. Perhaps that was why I felt so uneasy. Or perhaps it was the disapproval and concern that I could sense rolling off the huntsman's body, in his awkward defensive stance, in the very tension of his muscular frame.

"I promise on my faith, that I will in the future be faithful to the princess, never cause her harm, and will observe my homage to her completely, against all persons, in good faith and without deceit."

His hands were ever so warm and smooth, as I reached down to clasp them between my own.  
"I accept." my voice was strangely hollow and flat, like an echo. "Rise, and depart in my favour. May you find prosperity and goodness wherever you go."

He had sworn. There. It was done.  
We were safe.

The crowd of black-clad soldiers, looking like only half an army now without their weapons, waited subserviently. Payne remained kneeling, never looking up.

_They must never turn their backs on you. You must retreat inside once the ceremony is done, so that they can move_, the Duke had informed me.  
Now I glanced over at him, and seeing it was time I spun swiftly about and passed on through the great oak doors, leaving them to make their own way through the portcullis and out into the world.

Right now, William was riding out ahead of them. Thankfully none of them were on horseback.  
They would never catch him, and if they did, they had no weapons.  
Duke Hammond would never have sent him out if he'd thought it might be dangerous.

I thought these same things to myself over and over, coming to the same conclusions, finding myself scouring back across the idea again and again. I couldn't leave it alone, like an itch, like a pervading nightmare.  
A few days. And he would be here. Safe.  
He and the remainder of my people.

I realised that I was hungry. Ravenous. I'd had no breakfast.  
Things like food were shifted to a lower priority when it came to the kingdom. I was learning it fast.  
But I was used to hunger.

"Greta." I said, entering my father's counsel chambers once again.  
She was there. She was always there, at my side devotedly. Now she floated towards me with a sweet shy smile.  
"Majesty."  
"I would appreciate you calling for breakfast to be brought to us. For yourself, and the Duke and huntsman too."

With that, I sat at the table's head as I had done an hour ago, and invited the men to follow suit.  
I daren't look at him, for fear of what I'd see there. And it wasn't just because of Payne.

Now that William had gone it was like the sky had opened up above me, leaving me to scorch in the sun's glorious white heat. And I couldn't bear to burn. Not today.  
No veil stood between us, between me and this overpowering force of nature, this resounding commanding call, the sheer pure light of him. I had to keep my eyes averted, in case I was caught, and could never look away again. Even though I could feel him gazing at me. _Especially_ because I could feel him gazing at me.

Just not today.  
My tasks for the morning alone had barely begun.


	17. Chapter 17

**17  
**_His eyes are locked on her, her eyes are fixed elsewhere  
Eyes split in two, if only she knew, if only she knew  
The curtain goes down on him again._

* * *

As soon as the delicately carved wooden bowl was set before me, spilling over with hot oats, I felt guilty.

Hammond stirred his spoon, frowning.  
"We must focus upon our immediate troubles. Our food stores are low, the people cannot live on air and hope. We should investigate Ravenna's import, her suppliers."  
"Do you think they will trade with us?"  
"The question is whether we should like to trade with them."

"Not every kingdom in this land is wicked."  
"And not all are good." he replied gently, "I will look into the matter, find the key to the treasury, see how much the witch hoarded for us to bargain with."

The huntsman coughed quietly, respectfully, with restraint.

The Duke turned to him with an equally controlled gaze. "Yes?"  
"I can be of service. Outside of importation, that is."  
He never looked up, but my blood quickened as I regarded him. His idea began to dawn on me.

"Of course." I said, enthused. "How obvious."  
"You would lead a host of hunters and gatherers to the wilds?" Hammond clarified.

The huntsman shot him an affirmative glance. "Yes, m'lord."  
"We would be grateful."  
"I don't ask for gratitude." Blue circles settled on mine for a moment, just a moment, and then away.

Greta's eyes were also on me, though when I returned the glance she focused on her food.

* * *

The red-haired, ever obliging girl cleared away our bowls.  
"Greta, you are at liberty until I call for you."  
She curtsied with pleasure, and skittered off, probably to hear the kitchen maids' gossip.

The Duke cleared his throat.  
"Huntsman, you will gather my men and choose a third to accompany you. Avoid the Dark Forest."

He looked startled at being so swiftly dismissed by Hammond, but bowed stiffly to him and then to me, gazing up from under his brows.

His footsteps echoing down the corridor lulled me into a state of thoughtless inertia. For a few moments, I knew nothing but those footsteps, and what they resembled – the lingering of his body and soul within my mind. The world passing into greyness at his departure.

"Princess."  
Hammond's drawn but kindly face was awaiting my attention.  
In my fear of giving something away, in my sudden gut-clenching spasm of guilt, I once again realised the depth of the emotions that I stifled. I hoped the burning in my cheeks wasn't visible.

"We have another issue to discuss, in the luxury of solitude." He emphasised his last words a little, and I could almost hear the scepticism in his voice.

He disliked having the huntsman at my side.

I saw why he would question it. I was their monarch; my duties were my own burden. And though the huntsman contributed to the kingdom's safety, to my safety, he looked entirely out of place from an outsider's perspective. In Hammond's eyes, he had become obsolete with the departure of Ravenna's army.

But every part of me recoiled and reacted at this. The huntsman – _my _huntsman – had followed me from battle to bath chambers, to my bedside, to the burial of my soldiers. He was always there, and when he wasn't directly beside me he was doing my will, somewhere within the castle.

He was just there, because if he wasn't…

There I drew a blank. There was blankness and nothing else. Mechanical things just seemed to stretch on forever.  
Was William another mechanical part, then? Another wheel?  
My stomach shifted and twinged.

No. William was a living thing. He could breathe life back into me.

But no life in comparison to this one… The life of the huntsman's rumbling low voice, his lilting gruff accent, the motion of his gait as he strolled, the handsome cut of his features, how they moved and made meaning. The furrow of his brow when he held something back from me. The flashes of lights in his eyes when he didn't.

There was nothing quite beyond this. I realised with a jolt that, despite my position, despite all I'd experienced, I would never go beyond him.  
He was the final approximation of life to me.

"Princess." Hammond repeated, and this time I forced myself into alertness.  
"Duke?"  
"Your coronation is very close." he began, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Soon you will be elevated much higher above us than you already are. Amongst the gods."

I had nothing to say to this. The notion was daunting enough.

"I dare say it will be a lonely position, especially for you."  
_Especially for a woman, _I silently concluded.  
"And I am inclined to presume you would be grateful of a companion. Someone who would not contradict your will, someone who means the best for your people, just as you and I do."

Moments ago I was burning up with embarrassment. Now it seemed as though my hands had turned to ice on the arms of my chair, as though my muscles had hardened with cold. If my skin weren't white enough already, it paled now.

"Your father and I had planned – it was looking to be a successful plan, just before he died – that our children should be united to rule after us." he finished.

The final, heavy stroke fell upon me. I had been lowering my gaze, tracing the patterns in the table, trying to avoid his words as much as his searching eyes.  
Now I looked at Hammond, as the huntsman's prey would soon look at him. With that sad knowledge of being caught, of things coming to an end.

"I'm not certain that a hasty union would be wise." I hedged.  
"Quite the contrary; the sooner you present a strong, united front to our people and all the lands beyond us, the sooner we may rest in security."  
"Am I not strong in myself?"

He seemed to retreat a little, bracing the bridge of his nose between thumb and finger, and heaving a sigh.  
"I am only trying to be logical."

This jolted me. I received an overwhelming sense of my own illogical response, with a spasm of guilt.  
If William and I had grown together in peace, if Ravenna had never invaded, if I had never had to make the journey through the Dark Forest, if I hadn't been so open to the huntsman's charm despite myself…  
I would take William's hand without a thought.

_If, if, if.  
_I felt fury, real fury, injected into my blood.  
The past couldn't be reversed.

Hammond had left me to die as a child, when that gate dropped. His logic was filled with cold calculation.

I looked him square in the eye, and felt myself straightening to authoritative height.  
"I escaped from her. _Without_ help." I emphasised, making him flinch. "I made my own way to the forest, I evaded her soldiers. I convinced the man hunting me to guide me to you. _I_ rallied your men, led them to war, I killed her. And I have done my best to revive us all since then."

He looked as though he was about to speak. I gestured for silence.  
"I've proven my right as the protector of this kingdom. Alone, I represent salvation – I don't need a king, and neither am I ready for one."

His mouth closed slowly, and he looked quite deflated by my anger.  
"This is not a permanent decision, is it, princess?"

I wondered how he'd take the news that I might desire my own choice of husband.  
That I may want a common man, instead of his son.

"When the kingdom and I are both ready for the change, I will take a husband."  
_A husband_. Vague, evasive. I betrayed myself even in this.

But he dipped his head, satisfied, and smiled with a fatherly fondness.  
"You certainly know your own mind, princess. I am confident that the kingdom is in safe hands."  
With that, he allowed me to stand first.  
"We will meet over our next meal, once I have gathered enough information about Ravenna's traders. We shall see if they can be of any use to us. Then we must begin our plans for the long term."

He bowed deeply, in one great sweep, and left the chamber.  
I had to sit down, my heart knocking frantically against its cage, my breath coming in uneven gulps.  
Apparently, I was safe. For now.

I felt the future crushing down on me already, huge and unrelenting. Hammond's logical will like a fist.  
It wasn't only his will I feared, nor the feud that could occur if I refused William.

What would my people think of me, if I took one of their rough and unrefined villagers for a husband?  
What if the huntsman refused me? What of the humiliation that would follow?

And how was I ever going to explain this to William?


	18. Chapter 18

Sorry about the lateness! A huge thank you to everybody who has reviewed, some _amazing_ and very flattering feedback. It's hard to believe your immense enthusiasm! I'll do my best with the rest of this fiction for you.

* * *

**18  
**_As snow falls on desert sky  
Until the end of everything  
I'm trying, I'm trying, to let you know  
Just how much you mean to me.  
_

* * *

A single strong, brave breath, and I forced myself to my feet.

I had a few hours until Hammond returned for our midday meal, with news of the treasury and traders. William was pelting across the land towards the Duke's castle, where he would likely appoint volunteers to aid him in collecting the villages, saving as much time as he could. But it would still be days before every Count and Viscount, every Steward and Reeve was gathered in this room, discussing our future.

I couldn't possibly plot ahead without Hammond's help. _Plans for the long term_, he had said.  
For now I would focus upon reconciling myself with my personal future – and tidy away my past.  
It was time to rid the royal chamber of Ravenna's possessions… and my father's. It was time to move in.

My legs were stiff, my shoulders were heavy.

All those clothes I had found, on my search for the huntsman's new garments… the clothes still folded and hanging in the wardrobe room, belonging to my father. She hadn't thrown them away, only pushed them to one side as relics, outshone by her own elaborate gowns and capes, her stuffed boxes of jewels and rings and trinkets. They were trophies to her, his surcoats, his belts, his breeches. Even his crown was there, flung over a pair of boots, like any old object. I had caught sight of it only briefly. Enough to make me run for my life, back to the warm candlelight of the bathing room.

That crown.  
Its shape and its dull golden hue encircled my mind, in a perfect wrought hoop of beauty.

And then, quite suddenly, it was settled on the huntsman's dark mane of hair - glossy with the sheen of royalty - above his heavy masculine brow and clear kind eyes. Eyes that projected shafts of blue light into my soul and touched me, tender. Eyes that matched the velvet surcoat, a surcoat that concealed such a perfect body, a body I longed for. A body that moved towards me across the royal chamber, within the privacy of walls and wedlock, in slow trustworthy purpose. A body that would soon unite with mine, somehow. My racing pulse and my giddy head as I slipped into his arms like a swan, graceful and desired and white in all my exposure. His heavy brow and kind eyes and curving lips bending towards my face, to meet me, to join…

"Hallo again."

I jumped a foot in the air, only just managing to bite back a yelp.  
From the concealment of a doorway, a figure had stepped out and blocked my path, towering and broad. Smiling.

Him. Only him.

"You frightened me," I gasped, "you troll!"  
"I couldn't possibly set off without saying goodbye." his northern cadence laughed at me quietly, "I shan't return until the evening, perhaps the dawn."

I was hardly concentrating on his words; my embarrassment dimmed everything else.  
If he knew, if he only knew what ghastly things I had been imagining the instant he interrupted me!  
I was on fire with the intensity of shame. And something else.

"So are you going to wish me successful hunting?"  
I flinched, and looked up from the floor. His mouth was twisted up into confused teasing fondness.

"You're very cheerful."  
"I have been waiting to jump out at you for the past ten minutes."  
"_Jump out_ at me?" I bit my lip, trying not to let my aggravation show, and utterly failing. "You are about to lead a hunting party to save my kingdom from _starvation_."

"I thought I'd honour you with a demonstration. Get in some last minute practice."  
His warm humour would have mollified me just hours ago. But now – still feeling as though I had been caught in some unspeakable act of adultery – so afraid, and so alone – I couldn't understand it. I couldn't comprehend his jovial manner.

I was on my way to bid the remnants of my father farewell.

"How can you be so cold?" I found myself asking, in all seriousness, and meaning it.  
His face fell in an instant. "I don't know what you mean."

I thought of a thousand different ways to chide him, and each one fell uselessly away. I didn't want to have to explain. He should know. He should know what a fool he made himself look, cavorting about while my people suffered below us.

"Just – be more respectful." I tried to edge past him, to get away from all this, to hide in the peaceful melancholy of my father's wardrobe chamber. To rid myself of the plague of images, the tainted desires.

Once again he blocked my way, forcing me to look at him, his expression abruptly full of solemn sincerity.  
I hated the circles of gorgeous blue that locked my gaze with his. Hated the reaction it caused in me.

"I meant no harm. Snow White." His hands were extended, as though to touch me. "Surely you understand."  
"What is there to _understand_?"  
"That my obligation is not only to your people."

His softness almost killed me. Couldn't he see how it tortured me, how it racked me with uncertainty, how it made me wish for things I couldn't ask for?

"My occupation certainly isn't to advise." he acknowledged the Duke's superior right with a weak smile, "And it isn't only to protect. You know. You know I am here because you need somebody to remind you."  
My blood quickened. "Remind me?"  
"That you aren't just a slave to your kingdom." He was drawing closer, ready to envelope me. "You are human. You deserve to be human. And I should like you to stay that way. There's the world, and then - there's you. And me."

"You and me?"  
"Aye. Have you forgotten already?" It made me feel even worse to see him saddened than to see him cheerful. "Our journey, our friends? Our few moments of – of freedom?"

I hadn't forgotten. I knew exactly what he was talking about.  
That huge, daunting world of responsibilities and actions had somehow, along the way, cut itself off from the world that the huntsman and I alone inhabited. We were living two lives. Two half lives.

But I didn't want to know, and I didn't want to be exposed to him another minute in this state.  
It was too much.

He was trying to keep me whole, intact, a vessel full of realness and life.  
But I was a wheel. A gigantic wheel that turned other wheels, that kept a cycle going. I was the conductor of a purpose. I was the tool, the key to a new beginning for these people.

I couldn't, I realised – I couldn't be as real as he wanted me to be. I couldn't be both things.  
He couldn't force me.

"I'm sorry." I muttered, and pushed my way to liberty, evading his hands, evading his bewildered gaze. "I have to go and – and clear the wardrobe for my own use. I will relocate to my proper chambers tonight."

Without meaning to I had stopped to look back at him, from my retreating position. To apologise without words.

He was standing as one abandoned – a desolate look had come into his face like a gathering cloud. The blue halos were dimmed. I had betrayed him, and now he accused me with those slumping shoulders, with those silent parted lips. I had made him obsolete, I had cut him off, I was the cruellest wretch alive.

I was just like _her_.

The thought almost knocked me to the floor. The heartlessness of it, the despair.  
Was this what power did? Was this how she had become a witch? By becoming non-human, a wheel?

"I don't…" My mouth broke around the words, struggling for more, unable to find expression.  
"Snow White." he breathed, understanding my anguish, understanding despite my inability to tell him. "You don't have to become this. You _are_ allowed to have a heart. How could you care for them otherwise?"

He closed the space between us in three long strides, and I let all the breath slide out of me as I was finally in his arms, my head cradled against his chest like a child, the whole world kept at bay by the broad wall of his back, giving me room at last to be myself. Myself, and him. Sheltered from the world.

And we weren't living two half lives after all.  
I couldn't have been a human, were I stranded there alone. But he had strength enough for the both of us.  
He would hold my soul aloft from the crowds. He would protect me from my own mind.

And still I couldn't bring myself to be courageous.  
Still I couldn't lift my face to his.  
Still I didn't dare to kiss him.

In case he didn't kiss me back.


	19. Chapter 19

Again, I'm very sorry about the delay. Being back at uni means I only have time to focus on one story in my spare time, and I'm afraid Doctor Who has to take priority. I've had to devise a plan which will allow me to finish this story instead of leaving you all hanging. It's basically called pressing fast-forward.

(Some of you have already reviewed expressing dissatisfaction. I really am very sorry. At some point in the future I may produce a sequel, but right now I don't have a choice. I am also put out because I loved this story, and you can tell by how much effort I've put into it. So please just enjoy this last chapter, since I spent three days trying to make it perfect for you, as a good enough send-off.)

* * *

**Interlude**

Snow White moved into her father's chambers. The traders that Hammond investigated turned out to be trustworthy, and Ravenna's hordes of riches made it relatively easy to continue their exchange. Snow White's people were saved from starvation for the foreseeable future.

In the meantime, Hammond and the Princess began to plan the agriculture of their land, as well as the enrolment of male citizens into their training army. The huntsman was still out with his band collecting food, but in his absence Snow White insisted that he become her permanent High Constable and personal guard when he returned. Hammond was put out by this, until he realised that it left an opening for William to become King, and so consented.

The huntsman and his band of gatherers did not return that night, or in the morning. In fact, they did not return until after William and his people did – thus he walked into the coronation late, and Snow White was evidently relieved to see him. He had brought back plenty of game, and just in time for the coronation's celebratory feast, in which the lowest peasant was allowed to fill himself to bursting.

However, in the short time that William had been back he had already confessed his love for the Princess. She delayed her answer to his proposal of marriage in a state of painful uncertainty. William's heart was true; it had belonged to her from childhood.

Hammond was so insistent that she chose the right husband to lead their people. Could the huntsman stand to become a tool of the kingdom, like her? Could his wild heart endure it? Could Snow White endure to injure William, when she knew well what she felt for him?

In the weeks that followed as she took the counsel of the Barons and Counts and Reeves, as she oversaw the development of her kingdom, from its peoples' new-found strength and confidence to the very flowers growing on the trees, as she watched each man and woman taking their place, learning their trade and learning to trust again, she found that she was running from her decision.

The huntsman stepped into his role as her guard and was forced to become much more formal under Hammond's gaze. Still she had not guessed his name.

William continued at her side with Hammond, helping her to run the kingdom, always watching for her long-awaited acceptance.

And then, a week later, one of their hunters came flying back from the woods like a hurricane with news that would force the Princess into action.

* * *

**19  
**_And my heart is a hollow plain, for the devil to dance again  
And the room is too quiet, oh  
I was looking for the breath of a life, a little touch of a heavenly light  
But all the choirs in my head sang no, oh, oh._

* * *

"There is no more time. We must be ready. We must be strong."

The Duke's eyes were bulging with alarm as I silently clasped the hands of the exhausted messenger at my feet.  
I knew what Hammond meant. I knew the game was up. He wanted me to accept his son as my King, and he wanted me to do it now.  
It might be the only means of saving the people.

"Where is he?" My voice rang out like a blank wall, empty behind its defences. Giving nothing away. Now was not the time for sentiment. Only action. "Gather the people. All of them, as they are. As we are." I glanced about the bare hall from my seat upon the throne. "We don't have the luxury of proper ceremony."

I didn't know what I felt. I had hidden it even from myself.

"He is with the soldiers, overseeing their training." Hammond's voice was a hundred miles away, and yet it pressed down upon me like a density in the air itself.

"I will go to him. Ensure the people are collected. Summon the bishop and priests."  
With that, I rose without a thought of demeanour and ran for my life towards the western arms of the castle, where the gardens lay transformed into a training ground. Where I would find him.

Not him. _Them_. The both of them. Where I would finally discover if he loved me just from the look on his face, as I uttered the words to William.

I was terrified that I would see it there – the anguish of love and treachery. But I was more afraid that there would be nothing. _Selfish, selfish_. I wouldn't be able to look into his neutral, passive blue eyes without crumbling at his feet.

The moments trembled like disturbed wings before my eyes, I couldn't get a hold on anything. I felt sick, so sick I might fall. But I had to keep putting my feet ahead of me. I had to reach William, the willing victim of the crown. I had to marry him. Even if it killed me. It was the people now, only the people mattered. The people needed a King. The people needed a real protector. Immediately. Immediately…

These repeated thoughts got me to the gloomy passage leading out into the gardens. I was almost there. William could carry me the way back, if necessary.  
I only had to reach the garden. The garden.

And then a silhouette appeared from around the corner.  
"William," I choked, and allowed myself to lean against the cool stone of the wall, breathing in jerks.  
The figure stiffened, and then suddenly sprang towards me. He was with me in seconds, darting quicker than an animal despite his solid build.

His solid build.  
His straight dark hair. The masculine heavy brow, the kind clear eyes narrowed in acute concern. The northern lilt shaping itself around my name, pitched higher than usual, still like thunder amongst the mountains. "Snow White!"

No. No. Not him.

I could have been strong, if it had been William I could have held myself like a princess and just said the words, as though I were saying any words. But here was _his_ image instead. The only image that could break the iron will, the will that kept my soul from shattering into sharp, dangerous fragments, shards that pierced through my thudding heart and punctured my lungs.

"No," I rasped, breath like gravel in my tight throat. "Get William. Bring William. Please."

It was like a dream. An awful dream in which I was losing my strength, needed it more than ever but lost it, feeling the tension leaking out of my knees and my arms until my body was buckling and I fought with the wall to stay upright. Out of nowhere the misery came. The dull spell I had cast over myself was broken by his face. My eyes were hot and wet. I tasted it, as the beads plummeted in straight lines to my mouth.

His broad, warm, rough hands caught me under my arms and practically held me up like a doll. I swayed against his strength as I finally let go, trusting myself to his hold even as I was about to destroy myself, destroy us by disconnecting myself from him forever.

"What is it? _What is it_?" His usually placating tones were urgent, frightened. He was frightened. He swept me against him, his arms encasing me as he cradled my head under his chin with one hand. I could feel the pulse of anxious blood in his throat by my ear, hear the life quickening in his veins.  
"Let me go," I wailed, though I couldn't stand on my own, "go and get William."

"Why, why William? What's wrong?"

The moment was upon me, the moment I'd been putting off ever since William had joined us in the forest. It crushed me now, like the troll's looming fists could have crushed me. I bit down against it and held my breath to prevent the scream. The pain was intolerable, too much and so suddenly.

I had known. I had known that I loved him. But I never imagined it was this much. It felt as though I were losing the life from my body, a body that refused to move, refused to function without the hope of him. The spark of his life had ignited me into action every day since he had thundered into my world and consumed it. Now there was nothing.

A rising pool of murk and desolation lapped about me, its dampness weighting me, chilling me through. In a moment I would have to let go of the rock I clung to, and surrender myself to it. I would sink to its bottom and my spirit would drown.

My silence disturbed him, for he shook me slightly as he held me at arm's length and repeated his question. "What's wrong?"  
I forced myself to breathe, though it only brought me fresh strength to sob convulsively.  
I couldn't cry in front of him. If this was going to work I couldn't show how it killed me.

"You are to assemble the soldiers in the hall," I was saying in utter monotone, gazing blandly at the centre of his chest, my eye level, trying to free the thickness in my throat. "For mine and William's marital ceremony."  
"Excuse me?"  
"I must marry William. Within the hour."

I was left floating in space as his hands suddenly loosed me, held up only by the sheer will of my mask. I bent my head to stare at my feet, and said nothing else. There it was. The bond cut like a cord. For the kingdom. For my people. For the kingdom.

He reeled from me, as though I were poisonous.  
As though I had broken his heart.  
_As though I had broken his heart._

"No," his voice flowed over me, its touch like velvet despite its coarse harshness. "No, you are _not_. You can't marry him. Snow White."

I had broken his heart. He loved me.

It was his turn to support himself against the gloomy grey stone, one fist clutching his breast as though trying to hold his soul together. It was fracturing as much as mine. I could feel its glass splinters, splinters that had the power to mingle with my own shattered spirit and form a complete crystal whole, reborn.  
Not allowed.

"You can't. You can't marry him. Take it back."  
"I have to."  
He crashed a fist against the wall, snarling through his clenched teeth. "_Why_?"

"_Because they're coming back,_" I yelled so suddenly and sharply that he flinched before the words could sink in, "Payne is coming. And his army. And others."  
"Snow White –"  
"Others who heard about us, how _vulnerable_ we are."

I tore my hand away as he reached for it, turning my face from him so he couldn't see the contortion of my raging sorrow. His chest jerked and heaved, betraying only the softest sound of despair. More painful to the ear than any scream. I railed against that noise, willing it into insignificance, smothering the sheer searing agony ripping through me.

"We can't afford to be weak. We need a King, we need a real leader, _right now_."  
"_**Haven't I proven myself worthy of that?**_"

I froze, arrested by the thunder in his voice. The utter power of that rumbling landslide falling from his lungs. And despite myself, I looked at him.

His expression contradicted his words so violently that I nearly broke, there and then, before him. His lips were parted and loose in innocent grief, downturned; tears stood in the blue eyes that glowed even in the gloomy passage, incandescent with glistening emotion and beauty. His usually heavy brow was lifted and slanting towards bewildered anguish. His ragged breath hung in the air, like a question all of its own.

I wanted to snatch all my words back. I wanted to die rather than see his pain. _He loves me. He loves me_. It surged through me like an independent energy, like a life force, forcing me to look all the way back to our journey in this new light. That was why he had come back for me. That was why he had stayed even when William arrived. He loved me.

Did he look at me and see nothing beyond? Did he think I was the approximation of life to him? Like I saw him?  
He did. There it was, unearthed in his misery, drawn plainly in the lines of his face.

"But William." I wanted to fall into death and never have to make this decision. I couldn't bear his pain, but I couldn't stand William's either. It still stirred something in me, meant something to me. The rightful King, my rightful partner.  
"What? What _is_ it about _William_?" Again his countenance was altering, the angles hardening, eyes narrowing in spite. "Who stood by with his father, while Payne convinced you to release him? If you hadn't listened to me, we wouldn't even have defences. Would you have him make _decisions_ for you?"

His anger flashed against something in me. I bristled, and realised that I was angry too.  
"We were _supposed_ to be together!" I snapped, so abruptly I didn't know I was thinking it until the words were there between us. "William and I were always going to be. _You_ – you have _ruined everything_!"  
"_Me_? _I've_ ruined everything?"  
"Did you think you could rob me of the future I was meant to have? Don't you know how much I've fought against you for his sake?!"

He was straight and stiff as though made of stone, just an addition to the grey hues of the walls. "Fought against me? You mean – you mean you've –"  
"It doesn't matter what I mean! _You_ interfered with what was _supposed _to happen. He is the rightful King, and my _true_ love, and I refuse to hurt him for you!"

It was so sudden that I didn't even scream. His shape blurring as he shot towards me, my arms clenched between his large hands, my back against the cold stone. His face so close. His power overwhelming. "Your true love?" he snarled, though I could hear his voice cracking through it, "Is that what you believe? Your destined path? You don't think that our journey happened for a reason? You don't think that we were meant to meet, that the path you started on was the wrong one?"

I struggled a little, but his grip was solid. I didn't want to answer because I didn't want to lie. I didn't know what to think any more. I was so incensed, so outraged, because he had complicated everything that should have been simple. Because he was himself, and therefore impossible not to love. It was _his_ fault.  
But there was nothing beyond him. Life was not life without him. I knew that. I knew that if I married William I forfeited my soul. I knew that just because William had been my betrothed, it didn't make him my true love.

I couldn't see. I couldn't get around it. The anger clogged up my senses and my thoughts. And his beauty, his closeness, filling my vision with stunning blue and soft bronze and dark tawny brown. His essence shimmering through the image to envelop all else. My soul barely intact, still responding to him.

"Snow White," his lips were mere inches from me, torturing. "Don't you remember? Don't you remember what happened, when you were poisoned?"  
"No."  
"He kissed you. He kissed you and you didn't wake up."

The tears finally flooded over and fell from his eyes. And then from mine.  
Just like that, I was crying. And I hadn't even expected it, I hadn't felt it coming. Silent, heavy beads. Coming from an unconscious place. Unconscious and true... I had wept like this before.

"You." The whisper slipped from me, as I reached up to his face, touched his cheek. "You found me in the dark. Your voice came. You said – you said –"  
He had said that he loved me. That I reminded him of _her_. That I allowed him to rediscover the man he wanted to be, that I had saved him. "And then…"

The softest caress, in the blackness. The touch of his lips against mine. True love's kiss.

I knew. Because until then I had been crushed by that darkness, a prisoner... Only him. I had broken free, only because I needed to go back to him. Because our separation was impossible. It was not allowed. It could not be. The force that had grown between us would not be defeated or denied. He was mine. My true love. His was the real path, off the beaten track that had been planned for me, William's track. The Huntsman's path led into the forests, into the real wilderness of my heart and the freedom that still pulsed in my spirit. Only, only him.

I stirred. I had been still for what felt like an eternity, there in that memory, in the realisation of him. And he was still there, pressing me against the stone but lightly now, lightly like a lover's touch, as he watched me in silence. As his gaze slowly lifted mine I was brought back into the present like a ghost from another world. He filled me like a clear light and there was nothing but him to think about. Nothing but him being here, and staying, forever.

"I remember you," I said into his eyes, "Huntsman."  
"Erik."  
"Erik," I echoed, the word delicious on my tongue, "I came back, for you."  
"I know." His mouth lifted in a small smirk. "This is what I've been _trying_ to tell you."

The chains had been shattered. Nothing stood between us now. We could have been anywhere. We were floating. Alone. And I couldn't resist any more.

With a groan of pure relief he leaned into my kiss, his lips perfect and as I remembered them, shaping around my own like they were made to fit there, churning up my soul with his sheer intensity, the singular sensation of this touch, something beyond everything, transporting me outside myself into pure light.

I didn't have to say it. I didn't even want to. He knew. Instead as I slowly broke away from him I slipped my hand into his. The hand that sheltered mine, broad and warm and strong. As he would be, forever, for me. For my kingdom.

"Go to the hall. Tell Hammond. He will not fight you." All I could see was my father's crown resting on that dark head, where it belonged. "The people will already be gathering."

"Where are you going?"

I kissed him once more, lingering, feeling him breathing all the life that had been bleeding away from my soul back into me. Then I loosed my fingers from his grasp and smiled, concealing the slow flickering pain that welled up as I realised what marrying Erik meant. I willed him to understand. To know that it would be alright after this last thing was over. As soon as this last obstacle - person - was moved aside.

"I'm going to tell William."

_The End._


	20. Epilogue

****I had the most terrible urge to give this story a proper ending. I love the characters too much to leave them hanging on the edge of happiness forever.  
I may get another urge at some point in the future to write their wedding night - or at least the beginning of it.  
I really hope you enjoyed it. It's fresh from my brain and my heart. And it's dedicated to the rugged Scottish man who I still dream about meeting and marrying.

* * *

**Epilogue**

_Now I know it's true, my every road leads to you  
And in the hour of darkness your light gets me through  
You run like the river, shine like the sun  
You fly like an eagle, oh, you are the one  
I've seen every sunset, and with all that I've learned  
It's to you I will always, always return._

* * *

Greta clutched at my hand, positively shivering, though with excitement or dread I couldn't tell. A marriage and an announcement of impending warfare all in one day. It was more than she could take.

It was more than I would have been able to withstand if Erik hadn't been there, directly before me, utterly ignoring the Bishop who recited rites at him by heart. Stare fixed always on me. It kept me still, rooted to the ground, upright in the air. It kept my heart from freezing inside me, kept the very blood beating.

I gazed back, holding to him with my eyes. So breathtaking in his High Constable's uniform. No time to change dress, not even for me. No flowers, no maids but Greta and her girls. Somehow it was all just perfect as it was. The great hall of my father yawned over us with such splendour, his throne directly behind the bishop as though quietly watching, encouraging. The gathered people beyond the dais like a sea of life, also observing intently, observing the unbroken connection between myself and Erik. There it was, plain for all to see.

Even plain to William, who stood in the corner of my eye like a lone figure of great history, a soldier, betrayed and undermined but still undefeated. Still his whole self. Still full of the life he would live in this castle or in Hammond's, and the wife he would choose and the children he would rear, and the noble position I would ensure he was given.

William. My childhood. My past. Still my friend.

"At this day of binding," the Bishop warbled, "if any man do alleged and declare any impediment why they may not be coupled together in Matrimony, by God's Law, or the Laws of the Realm; and will be bound, and sufficient sureties with him, to the parties; or else put in a Caution to prove his allegation; then the solemnization must be deferred, until such time as the truth be tried."

William's mouth moved with the rest as though without effort. He concealed the pain well enough.  
"It is all well with us, let them marry."

A twinkling triumph came into Erik's blue stare. The corner of his lips curved upward, and I knew his relief, the absolute purity of the relief of this moment. I was going to be his. Finally, after everything, we would be able at last to simply love. The welling love between us like cold clear water, refreshing, life-giving, we could drink of over and over and never tire, always giving back what we took from it in this everlasting cycle of communion, or mutual and shimmering love. It would never end. The ecstasy of our union would never end. The truth of true love.

It hushed every other thing in the world, even the war. Nothing but this for now. Nothing but the ending of a torture I thought would never cease. What pure relief it was, to look at him and know that I had all of him, unlimited and whole forever. I would never quite get enough. The fresh clear water would always leave me wanting that much more, its cyclical motions pulling me always back to the beginning, back to the wanting, and then once again to fulfilment.

"I will," he said, in his pure lilting rumbling accent. The breath rushed clean out of me.

Surely I was not standing on stone slabs. Surely we had ascended to some other unearthly realm, where the gods romped and the very daylight was a pleasure so intense and pure. I felt as though I had returned to the Sanctuary, that the White Hart was even now looking down at me with his all-knowing, all-giving gaze of fullness and beauty.

"Highness, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"  
"I will," I barely managed.

Was it time yet? Was it time to fall into his hands? My legs were weakening every second.

"Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?"  
"I do."

Hammond's broad fingers instead took my own, and it was support enough. His acceptance, his faith alone was enough to keep me steady. I glanced at him gratefully; he gave me to the Bishop, who in turn gave me to Erik. Masculine warmth flooded through me at the touch. I felt vivid and alive again, no longer in the Sanctuary. His grasp was sanctuary for a lifetime. I watched the movements of his mouth after the Bishop's, watched the life flow in him that passed through every muscle, that vibrated in him as something beyond existence, glorious and all-consuming. He said the words it took to bind us for eternity.

"I, Man, take thee Woman to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereunto I grant thee my troth."

I repeated in no more than a murmur, only to him, while the rest of the hall held its breath to hear me. I listened to the blessing of the rings with impatience and to Erik's next words with winded suspense as he proceeded to fit the golden band around my finger. My mother's wedding band.

"With this Ring I thee wed, and with my body I thee honour, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow; In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

It fit. It fit. And so did my father's on Erik's hand. A miniature of the crown he would soon bear too.

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." The Bishop turned to the mass of inquisitive, thrilled and apprehensive faces. "For as much as Man and Woman have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce therefore that they be Man and Wife together, in the Name of the God, our Bishop, and our King who is the protector of the Holy Spirit and our people. Amen."

To us – not me, or Erik, but us, as a whole – he said, "May God bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully show his favour whilst looking upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen."

And with that he spun us to face the crowd, and I was whirled into Erik's arms at last.  
His mouth met mine half open, like a memory, and I was lost to giddiness for wonderful moments. His sudden whisper at my ear as I clung to him like a child, the northern huskiness brushing through my hair. "This isn't how Rumplestiltskin traditionally ends, as I recall."

The old warm Huntsman I had loved from that first charming moment in the bathtub. I laughed aloud, and whispered back. "I can still cancel the coronation. I don't think you're solemn enough yet for a king."

"Oh, you're all mine now, Highness. I'd like to see you try and stop me."


End file.
